No Signal
by Josephm611
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Serena Taylors, daughter of the U.S. President, has the perfect life—friends, rich parents, thousands of followers on 4UM (the "in" social media app). When she wakes up surrounded by other rich kids from around the world, kidnapped by terrorists and destined for a deathmatch, everything changes. Who will survive? Will anyone survive?
1. Serena

**A/N Why hello... It's been a long time, hasn't it? Welcome to _No Signal_! This is a story told in three POVs, just so you don't get surprised when the POV switches next chapter. Enjoy!**

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**Serena**

The floor is hard.

I, Serena Taylors, do not sleep on hard floors. Ever.

But apparently, hard floors aren't that bad because all I want to do is roll over and sleep for another hour until my mind clears up…

Never mind. Rolling on a hard floor is way too uncomfortable. Maybe I'll get up.

My mind suddenly clears—even before I open my eyes, I can tell that something is definitely wrong. I'm not in my room. I'm on a concrete floor. The only light source is a flickering lightbulb dangling from the low ceiling, so dim it barely helps at all with lighting.

I have to stifle a scream when I notice the bodies lying all around me. Are they dead? No, I hear breathing, even snoring. As disgusting as that is, it's better than a room of corpses. Where am I?

I slide my phone out of the secret flap in my right boot and open 4UM to see how many likes I got on my latest photo. As the only daughter of President Taylors of the United States of America, I'm guaranteed internet popularity—and I take full advantage of it.

The loading sign keeps its spinning until the error message pops up: "No Signal." That's strange; I'm supposed to have high-speed 6G data no matter where I go in the country. Then… could that mean that I'm not in America? I'm pretty sure I was still in D.C. last I checked.

The body a few feet to my left stirs, and the guy sits up, rubbing his eyes

"Hey," I whisper, tapping him on the shoulder, "Where am I?"

He jumps slightly. "Cavolo! Chi sei?" Though I can't see very clearly, I'm pretty sure it's fear that zips across his face as he looks around the horrible room.

"Um… Where am I?"

He turns to me. "I'm… not sure," he whispers back, with a distinct accent. It sounds like somewhere in Europe. "I don't like how this looks…"

I click open my phone again, but he reaches for it and I slap his hand. "What are you doing?"

He rubs his hand. "I'm sorry about that. But seriously, you should hide your phone."

I sigh. There's no signal anyway. "Is this… Europe?"

He shrugs. "For all I know, we're in America."

"Well," I say, "I'm from America, and I'm pretty sure this isn't it."

"That's funny. I'm from Italy, and I'm sure I'm not home either."

I groan. We're getting nowhere. We might as well get to know each other. "I'm Serena Taylors, daughter of the President of the United States."

"Really?"

He doesn't recognize me? "Of course! And who are you?"

"I'm Damiano Acardi, son of the Italian Prime Minister. This is really bad."

We must've been too loud because more of the people around us are stirring. I slide my phone back into its secure place. A female scream comes from the other side of the room. A male voice comforts her. It doesn't matter, though; everyone is awake now. It's an awkward silence—other than the two on the other side of the room, no one seems to know anyone.

There's a sudden cranking noise that silences the few conversations that had barely managed to start, and a crack opens in the wall, which turns out to be a huge metal gate. It opens up into a dingy, windowless warehouse, brighter than the room we're in but just as insufficient in any measure. A few descript picnic tables are clustered in a circle on the far end of the disgusting concrete floor, but they do nothing to make the room any nicer. Clearly, no one here has any kind of eye for beauty.

At least there's enough light for us to see each other better. It seems like a pretty diverse group, with people from around the world. No one looks young enough to be in middle school, and Damiano looks the oldest—twenty-two, at most. Since I'm on the topic of Damiano… Dang. If I were in charge of casting for _15 Fires_, I'd cast him as the main love interest. Of course, if I were in charge of casting, I'd be the protagonist, but that'll never happen and all I can do is fantasize about it on my 4UM account… It is what it is.

A girl with wild, deep-brown hair gets off the ground and creeps towards the open gate, her eyes darting everywhere at once. She turns around for a second to see the rest of us, frozen in place.

"The rest of you too afraid to move?" she says, a scornful smile on her face despite clearly being afraid herself. Excuse you. When no one answers her, she laughs lightly and pokes her head into the warehouse. "Hello?"

The only answer she receives is the haunting echo of her voice, but before she takes another step, someone else protests.

"Stop!" a girl says. Since she's hidden in the back corner, the shadows hide most of her except for her wavy blonde hair. Like everyone else I've heard here, her accent also marks her as not from America. "It might be a trap!"

The wild-haired girl shrugs. "True, but it doesn't seem like any of us know anything. Might as well try, right?"

The other girl hesitates. "I don't know… I just have a very bad feeling."

The first girl cocks her head. "You seem like you know something the rest of us don't."

"No— I'm just as confused as you are."

"Then why would you immediately suspect a trap?"

"Well… it's just a feeling."

"I'm still going to try. We can't stay in this concrete closet forever." She takes a careful step into the warehouse, and then another. Other than her footsteps ringing and bouncing around the place, nothing happens. "It seems okay."

I look to Damiano, who shrugs and gets up himself. "I guess we go?"

"Sure." I follow, brushing the nasty dust off my jeans. "Ugh. This place is so dirty!"

Damiano smiles. "Not clean enough for you, princess?"

I glare at him, but he's already entering the warehouse. Here in the light, I can see the footprints my shoes leave in the dust. "It looks like this hasn't been cleaned in ages…"

The rest of the people follow us out. I'd say there's about twenty about us, with a roughly equal number of girls and guys.

"Man, this feels like a reality show," a black guy says. Wait… can it be? No way…

"Marcus Hendricks?" I blurt out. "The Marcus Hendricks?" This is a dream come true—this has to be some kind of reaction video for his channel! Oh. My. Gosh. We're breathing the same air!

His eyes light up. "You recognize me?"

"Of course!" I say, "I've watched every single video!" That's actually an understatement. I've watched every video, shared every post on 4UM, and tried every brand he's recommended.

"You know, this would make a really interesting video."

So... this isn't a video? Nah, he's got to be faking it. But this doesn't feel like a video... everything's too crazy for it. And any cameras in this warehouse wouldn't have a good shot of any of our faces. But if this isn't a video, then what is it?

The blonde crosses her arms. "How can you be thinking about videos right now? We're all going to die."

Wild hair wheels around from whatever she was doing. "You know something."

"I didn't say anything."

"But you're the only person that seems to have any clue what's going on."

The blonde just stares back, refusing to utter a single word.

Another whirring suddenly fills the air and the wall on the opposite side of the room opens, much like the gate we just came out of. A man wheels a cart in, his face covered by some sort of mask. From where we are, it's hard to make out what's on the cart…

"Hey!" wild-hair shouts. The guy ignores her and exits. Wild-hair runs after him—and she's fast—but the wall closes before she can get there. Huffing, she curses under her breath. "We still don't know anything."

"What's on the cart?" Damiano calls.

The girl takes a few steps closer to the cart. "It's… food. Packaged sandwiches."

"Is it for us?" he calls back.

"How would I know?"

"You're the only one that's close enough to see."

The girl inspects the cart as the rest of us move over to the cluster of picnic tables. "There are twenty sandwiches."

Damiano quickly looks over the rest of us. "There are twenty of us too. I guess they are ours."

Blonde objects again, her pretty face cold as stone. "Maybe they're poisoned."

Wild-hair groans. "And you're still not telling us anything."

"Would you trust mysterious food?" the girl fires back.

There's a pause before she responds. "I guess not."

"Exactly."

Marcus reaches for one of the wrapped sandwiches anyway. "I'm seriously hungry though." When both girls look at him in shock, he shrugs. "Honestly, if whoever gave us these wanted us dead, they wouldn't go to the trouble of giving us food. We'd already been shot or decapitated or something."

The reasoning makes sense and I'm still hungry, so I take one too. It's a pretty hearty sandwich too, with two thick slices of bread, some meat, lettuce, and a mystery sauce. I'm still investigating the sauce when Damiano interrupts, calling from one of the picnic tables.

"Serena—you should come sit!"

I inspect the rough wood. "That'll give you splinters!"

"Not if you're careful."

"And it's so dusty!"

"Come on, princess. It's not that bad."

Everyone else has taken a sandwich—other than the blonde—and found seats at the tables. I guess I should too, then… I lightly run my finger over the wood to reassure myself and sit down.

Other than Damiano and me, there are three other people at the table, two girls and one guy. The girls are noticeably better dressed. For a moment, I stare at them. They stare back at me, and I avert my eyes to avoid making it awkward. Out of the corner of my eye, they all do the same.

Damiano interrupts the awkward silence perfectly. "Well then, we might as well get to know each other." Ugh, his accent is just perfect. "I'm Damiano."

"I'm Serena," I say, chiming in.

The first girl shrugs and laughs, flipping her also-blonde hair. "Hey—I'm Arielle." I swear I've seen her face somewhere…

The other girl seems less sociable, but she follows along. "I'm Justine." Gosh—I love her British accent! It's just like all the characters in that last show I was binging last… week? Month? What day even is it today? I reach for my phone, but suddenly all I see in my head is Damiano's warning. No, Serena. Not right now.

Arielle takes charge of the conversation, so I must've missed the guy's name. "So where are you guys from? I'm hearing all the different accents and I'm super curious—I'm from Canada, by the way."

"Italy," Damiano says.

"America," I say.

"The UK," Justine says.

"Vanuatu," the mystery guy says.

"Where is that?" I ask. "I've never heard of it."

"It's in the Pacific…" he says, thinking, "It's near Australia, if that helps."

Now I wish I paid more attention in Geography. I smile and nod anyway. "That's super cool. Like we're all from different places…"

Damiano, who's been staring at the table in thought, suddenly straightens. "That's weird, isn't it? We're all here from different corners of the world and none of us know where we are?"

Mystery guy nods. "It is weird… Do any of you remember what you were doing right before this?"

Arielle shakes her head. "That is funny… I can't remember at all…" She pauses for a moment. "I vaguely remember the smell of pancakes… and I still have the taste of syrup in my mouth so I must've been eating breakfast."

Justine smiles a little. "I think I remember reading a book…"

"Book?" I interrupt. "What book?"

"_Below Twelve_. Have you heard of it?"

No. Freaking. Way. "Yes! I love that book!"

Her eyes brighten a little. "Really? Not many people have heard of it."

"Of course I love it! Except for the part where the guy dies…"

"Really? That's my favorite part."

All of a sudden, I sense someone moving in from my right. I turn my head to find a poised Asian guy, standing at the head of the table.

He smiles. "Hello! I've been getting to know everyone here and I would like to meet all of you." Though his English has some traces of an accent, it's clear he's practiced a lot. "My name is Alan."

"Hey," I say. "Yeah, I'm Serena."

The rest of the people at the table introduce themselves, so I pay attention this time. Justine from the UK. Arielle from Canada. The mystery guy's name is Geoffrey, from… Vanu-however-you-spell-it. And of course, Damiano from Italy, with his bright and shining eyes…

"What do you all think is happening?" Alan says, "No one seems to know anything."

"All of us are super confused too," I say, "It's like there's a gap in our memory and the last thing we remember is reading or eating pancakes or something."

He raises his eyebrows in a question.

"At least that's what Arielle remembers," I explain. Arielle laughs again, and I go on. "It's so weird though. It's almost like that TV show where a whole bunch of guys wake up in a place and no one has any memory. Of course, we all have some memory but it doesn't help because it's not what happened just before we got here…"

I suddenly realize that practically everyone's beginning to get that glazed-over look that tells me I've been rambling again.

"I'm so sorry— I ramble sometimes and then I can't stop. Like…"

Alan interrupts. "Well, that's understandable." Rude? I was about to stop talking. At least, I think I was about finished.

There's a loud screeching sound that makes us all cover our ears. Apparently, there are speakers in the walls. A deep voice comes on.

"Attention, everyone."

I can't pinpoint the accent this time. It's not American… but it's almost American. Or is it? It's so neutral that it's impossible to tell.

"We hope you have been enjoying the food accommodations."

So we were right in assuming the sandwiches were ours. They weren't horrible, but…

The voice continues. "We're sure you've been wondering what you are here for, and it is our pleasure to let you know now."

All around the room, metal gates are slowly opening, filling the warehouse with whirring.

"Every single one of you is here because of something your parents have done."

Dad? What did he do? He's only… the President of the United States of America. And Damiano is also the son of the Prime Minister or whatever. And Arielle is familiar now—she's Arielle Lecroix, the daughter of the Canadian Prime Minister. Are all these people famous too?

The booming voice continues. "Unless your parents change their courses of action, you will all be sent to an arena, where you must kill each other until only one of you is left. Of course, if you do not wish to kill, you don't have to."

Suddenly, masked people holding guns enter from the gates in every direction.

"If you do not decide that you are the one that must survive, we will make the decision for you. Good luck."

Just as suddenly as they all entered, they all leave and the doors slam shut.

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**A/N Welp. This is what it is. Before I disappeared from the site, I planned this with two of my friends who are also on the site. I don't think either is still here now, though, so I'm finishing it... I guess?**

**Man, it's been a long time. Drop a review if you feel so inclined; let me know what y'all are thinking after this. Part of the author's fun is seeing the reader's reaction, after all. And if we used to talk on here, I'd be down to catch up.**


	2. Alan

**A/N Apparently quarantine gives you more time to write.**

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**Alan**

This has to be a dream. Maybe I've watched too many TV dramas and it's all coming back to haunt me. I blink and pinch myself, a little too hard.

Ouch! The pain jolts me to my senses. I'm in a life or death situation here, and I, Liu Jie Zhang, deserve to get out of here, more so than the other spoiled brats here. Would the world _really _miss them if they disappeared? I don't think so.

Not compared to me, I'd think. I'm not even twenty and I'm already managing two of the largest companies in China. I've got officials across the country on my contact list. I'm trusted—even partially responsible—with manipulating the specialized Internet Firewall for Hong Kong. Not that I personally care—it's just a job that earns trust and power faster than I can trade stocks.

So what do I have to work with? I visually take in the room. It's a scene of shock. A couple seem to have fainted. They shouldn't be problems; they'll be some of the first to go—

What? No, of course I'm not going to kill anyone, not if I can avoid it. It's actually just like business. If you keep consumer confidence high, they'll keep buying and buying. I just need to act like I'm playing the game these terrorists want so they won't target me for refusing to play along.

Back to taking inventory. Over on the other side of the room is the group of (mostly) Spanish-speakers, other than the guy from Brazil, who seems to have been doing okay keeping up with the rest. Although they've been quite loud, no sound is coming from them right now. The table next to them seems to be faring better. There's a brother-sister pair from Australia and two other girls, one from Lebanon and the other from Algeria. The Lebanese girl, Rea, seems to be helping the brother comfort his sister.

The table I'm at right now seems devastated. The babbling girl's frozen in shock, clutching the Italian's arm. The guy's panicked too. Although he's patting her on the shoulder and whispering encouragement, his eyes betray fear—just like mine probably do. I blink rapidly, opening them to find my eyes locked with Arielle, who's staring back at me with the same investigative intensity. I've got to keep my eyes on her; she's more than the ditsy, dumb-blonde Canadian she wants us to believe she is. The other two—

A loud voice disrupts my analysis, as a guy leaps to his feet, pointing at Damiano. If I remember correctly, his name is Ramses. "This has got to be your fault."

Damiano shoots up and I take a few steps back to get out of the way. "You're crazy. Italy has done nothing to aggravate the situation. Maybe if your country had been harder on the terrorists in Libya, we wouldn't be here."

All around us, voices are beginning to rise. Serena tries to say something in defense of Damiano, but it's incoherent babbling, just like always.

Ramses doesn't backtrack. "It would be easier if you Westerners stopped interfering!" He spots something out of the corner of his eye and points his other finger at Adalia, the tall, stoic Algerian girl. "And you! Both of you are the reason the rest of us are here."

The girl doesn't respond with words, but her icy, disapproving stare is more than enough. On the other hand, Damiano shows no such calmness. "Didn't you hear the guy? _All_ of us have some kind of connection. And none of _us_ are literally responsible. It's not like we're the ones making government decisions."

I cough to cover up the laugh that nearly burst out. Just as I thought, none of these people are _actually_ important, not in the way I am. Not that I'll actually say that out loud. I've got no part in this and I don't need any fingers pointed my way.

"It's got to be someone's fault," Ramses continues. "This stuff doesn't just happen."

A new voice joins the chaos. It's the other American—Hunter, if I remember correctly. "I think it's Russia's fault." He's pointing at the paranoid blond girl, the one that suggested that the sandwiches were poisoned. Her name's Nastasia, and when I spoke with her earlier, I definitely got the feeling that she knew more than any of the rest of us.

Devorah—the girl that was first to enter the warehouse—stands up as well. "Didn't I suspect you from the very beginning?"

Nastasia doesn't reply. I don't even think she can—her face is buried in her arms, resting on the table. I tried to get any kind of information out of her, but she won't talk. Almost literally.

Another guy steps into the center of the cluster of tables, both of his hands raised. "Stop!" His voice is commanding and firm. "We all need to calm down and stop this nonsense!" All the other voices suddenly shut down. I wrack my memory, but I don't remember his name, even though I know I spoke with him earlier. I overlooked him then—I'll have to speak with him later. Influence is good.

Devorah steps up, getting in his face. I can't hear what she's saying to him, but it doesn't sound nice. The guy flinches but responds calmly. She sits back down, unappeased, but content to wait for now.

Now that the initial fury has passed, I'm relieved that I made connections with nearly everyone earlier. No one's in the mood to socialize now, and I'll need as many connections as possible.

The guy resumes speaking. "We need to see if there's any way for us to get out of here."

He must be insane. Whoever has us here is likely monitoring us right now, and this is the fastest way to get killed. If we knew anything about our captors, I'd be more willing to go along, but we don't know anything, and it's nearly impossible to fight an enemy without information.

Nastasia lifts her head from her arms in bitter resignation. "We're done for. Can't you just accept it?" There's no way she didn't have prior knowledge of this. She's playing along with the terrorists far too well to not know anything.

The guy questions her back. "How do you know?"

She sighs. "For all we know, we could be underground. And it doesn't look like any of the doors directly lead outside." Once again—a suspiciously informed conclusion.

"We don't know that."

"Even if they did, how would we open them?"

The guy throws his hands up in the air. "Then what do you say we do? Give up and die?"

"Do we have any other choice?"

"Maybe someone has a phone on them or anything with GPS reception."

No one says anything. Serena instinctively reaches for her boot, but Damiano squeezes her arm and she freezes. So… she does have a phone on her? Did anyone else notice that? As I check everyone else's reactions, I find my eyes once again locked with Arielle's. She narrows her eyes, but I keep my face blank. Once again, it looks like I'm not going to have a good time with her around.

The wall near us opens, and four people stand there, dressed in all back and holding guns, much like the ones from before. The speakers buzz as someone prepares to speak again. I groan. What next?

"Devorah Peretz, please come with us."

Devorah's face hardens and she stands up, straight and tall. Staring at the terrorists with disdain in her eyes, she takes her time, walking slowly but surely to where they await. Two of them each grab one of her arms as they lead her down a long, dim hall. The doors close behind her.

The room begins to buzz again, the fearful silence broken by overwhelming curiosity. Serena, as I should've expected, begins nervous-speaking. "Are they going to kill her?!"

Damiano's face has now settled into a sheet of steel, cold and firm. His eyes betray the frustration and anger that lie beneath. "They wouldn't. They don't have a reason to kill us now."

Justine doesn't seem convinced. "What if the entire announcement was just a sick joke? Maybe they just wanted to scare us before they actually just shoot us. They are _terrorists_, after all."

"Why would they want to kill us though?" Damiano says, "We are the bargaining power. As long as we are alive, they have influence all over the world."

"Then maybe we should all just kill ourselves then," Justine says, smirking.

After about fifteen minutes, the door opens and Devorah returns, seemingly mostly unharmed other than a bruise forming on her face and her wild hair now even more of a mess than before.

The speakers and terrorists have returned with her. "Damiano Acardi, please come with us."

Serena buries her face in her arms, and Damiano pats her on the shoulder. "I'll be fine. They don't seem to be killing us—at least, not yet."

Justine smiles at the dry attempt at humor, and Arielle begins to comfort Serena. "C'mon; it'll all work out."

Serena doesn't buy it. "That's what they say in every single book, movie, TV show…"

"But this isn't a story. This is real life," Arielle says, her voice sickeningly sweet. "We can find a way out of this."

She whispers something in Serena's ear, and Serena nods, reaching down to her boot again, only stopping because Arielle whispers something else. That snake. I glare, my eyes meeting hers for a split second. She smiles and winks at me. Arielle — 1, Me — 0.

That won't do. I'll take advantage of the moment to glean information elsewhere. I float over to Devorah's table, where Hunter is grilling her on what she just experienced.

"What did they do to you?"

Devorah grunts, not in a mood to talk. She answers anyway. "They put me against a wall and told me to read lines off a sheet of paper. I did, but they weren't happy with my delivery."

"So they hit you?"

"Nah. I gave them the middle finger," she says, smirking, "and _then_ they hit me. Those…"

I stop listening as she enters a tirade of expletives that would shock a sailor. Reading lines off a sheet of paper? Sounds like they don't _really_ want us dead. Maybe they'll still let us go if our home countries pay or do something for them.

But that's useless speculation. I won't know until I see what I have to read. What I should be doing right now is figuring out how to get out of here. All I have is potential access to a phone, but I could be anywhere in the world — there might not be phone signal here. I'll have to pay attention to the equipment the terrorists have and guess at what they're using to communicate with each other.

The doors are opening again and the speakers are calling their next victim. "Liu Jie Zhang, please come with us." I wince at the brutal butchering of my given name. There's a reason I use "Alan" around foreigners.

Think fast. What should I look for? Walkie-talkies are dead ends. Phones and computers would be jackpots — if they don't have many people guarding me and there's a computer, I might be able to fight my way through and connect through that. I know enough martial arts to take on a single guy or maybe two. Phones are riskier; the password gets activated too easily. But if—

Damiano returns to the room, looking about as well as an overripe grape. One of his eyes is turning color, and his shirt is dusty and torn in a few places. There's a small gash on his cheek, and though he's holding himself together, I wouldn't be surprised if he collapsed.

I'm definitely not fighting anyone off today—not me. I'm now Alan Zhang, model captive. As Serena and her posse rush to Damiano, I enter the ominous gate, where the four armed and masked men are waiting for me. The winding hallways they lead me through are poorly lit, and every so often, there's a solid metal door in the wall. No sign of any kind of windows anywhere, either to another room or to the outdoors.

We stop at a door, and one of the guys scans a card on a sensor in the wall. The door opens. Inside are a few other similarly dressed guys, one of them holding an old camcorder. Drat. That tells me nothing, other than that their equipment is a generation behind.

One of them points to the far wall, where the lighting is surprisingly decent. "Stand straight against that wall."

The model captive I am quickly obeys. I smile, but it doesn't seem to ease the sense of death in here.

He gives me a sheet of paper. "Read this as we record. Don't try anything funny."

Oh no, I have no intention of trying anything after seeing Damiano like that. I'd rather not get bruises right now before things actually go down. On the floor around me, there are a few shreds of paper. That must've been Daminao then.

There's a beep. I gulp and begin to read. "This is Zhang Liu Jie. I am safe."

Safe? I don't believe it. I look to the guy, and he gestures for me to go on.

"I have been fed and am being kept in an adequate location. Please follow their instructions, or else I may be executed."

Executed! I knew I was going into a death match, but I didn't think they would kill us before they threw us in there. I look at the guy, and he narrows his eyes. Okay, okay. I'm reading.

"Whatever you do, do not attempt to use force. Please, for the sake of my life."

My performance is about as heart-breaking as a rubber duck, but there's a second beep and they say it's enough. I guess they're just glad to have someone that they don't have to physically force. I follow them out of the room, presumably back to the warehouse.

Send force? If that's a possibility, then we can't be that far away from civilization. It even implies that our location is known. We could be saved!

But if the world outside sends people to rescue us, will there be any of us left to rescue? Or will they find a heap of bodies, "executed" for someone else's misstep?


	3. Rea

**A/N: Here's the third of the three perspectives we'll experience the story through. Enjoy!**

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**Rea**

There's no clock in this obnoxious warehouse we're kept in. No sign of the day or hour, whether it's light outside or not. Ever since that traumatic first day—at least, I think it was a day ago—when we all woke up and learned we were captives to a terrorist organization, it's been eerily calm. I was the last to be called in to be filmed, but nothing has happened since, either with the terrorists or with us.

If anything, boredom is the biggest issue. There's nothing to do but wait. Rafael, a younger guy from Chile, took apart one of the spare tables. Mariana of Colombia's been chatting almost the entire time. Alan's made several rounds already, stopping by various tables to chat. Beside me, Rabia, a girl from Mozambique, is still sleeping. I'm pretty sure she woke up several times, but I guess she feels like there's nothing to do but sleep.

I'm still trying to figure out how to get all of us out of here.

Rabia stirs again, this time opening her eyes.

I smile wearily back at her. "Nothing's changed."

She closes her eyes, and then she opens them again. "I don't think I can fall asleep any more."

"You've already slept more than anyone else here," I say with a smile.

"That's all I'm good at doing… Is there anything else to do anyway?"

Is there? "Well… we could talk?"

She sighs. "I'm not good at talking."

"Tell me more about yourself."

"Well… mother is the President of my country. She's strong and brave. People told her that there was no way she could win an election, and she proved them wrong."

"But what about you?"

"I'm not good at that… I can… cook. Sleep. Eat. Not much else."

I sigh. "C'mon, I'm sure you're much stronger than you think."

She shrugs and closes her eyes again. I look across the table to Kaleb and Kimberly, a pair of twins from Australia, who've been chatting softly for a few hours.

"What do you think? What do we do?"

Kaleb looks to Kimberly, and then he speaks. "We clearly need to get out of here somehow. I'm not just going to let us all just die."

"Here's what we think," Kimberly says, "What if no one kills each other? Would they do anything to us?"

Somehow, I don't think that'd work. "What if they kill us?"

"I doubt it," she says. "We've been wondering why they want a deathmatch so much, and I think we've got it."

Kaleb continues. "If they just wanted us dead, we'd all be long gone. This entire warehouse deal can't be cheap, right? Doing a deathmatch requires a lot of work on their part."

Kimberly jumps in. "And since we're all from different places, they must really want to make the world stage more complicated. If they kill us, people around the world will see them as the solo enemy. But say if… angry miss Israel kills the guy from Egypt, then that'll make Israel look bad."

I guess that makes sense…? "But," I say, "Everyone knows that ultimately, it's the fault of the terrorists."

Kaleb shrugs. "True, but that means that refusing to kill each other makes for a better result no matter what happens. Best case, they keep holding us for ransom and then let us go. Worst case, we don't help their cause."

As shaky as the theory seems, I can't deny that it's _something_ to work off. "I get how you feel. I just keep thinking that no matter what happens… I don't want to be just a piece in their grand plan, this disgusting game. I don't want them to control me."

Kimberly nods. "I swear, I've heard that somewhere before."

I smile. "Now that you mention it, I'm getting that sense too. But there's got to be a way for all of us to beat this system."

My focus is interrupted by angry voices coming from two tables down.

"I swear!" Nastasia protests, "I don't know anything."

That poor girl. For whatever reason, quite a few of the other people here seem to think she's an inside job for the terrorists.

"Do you want us all to die here?" Hunter says. "'Cause that's what it feels like you're doing!"

"We're all going to die anyway!" Nastasia insists again.

Hunter does have a point. There's just something _different_ about her, though I can't pinpoint exactly what it is.

Devorah gets in her face. "Look, you better spill or else you'll regret it."

That's it. I'm not watching this anymore. I march over and tap Devorah on the shoulder. I'm going to regret it, but it's better than doing nothing.

She whirls around. "And what do you want," she snaps.

"If she's not going to talk, there's no point in this. What are you going to do? Kill her first?" I say, my voice rising. "There's nothing you can do right now, so you might as well stop wasting your time on scaring the poor girl and spend it on something actually productive!"

She must not be used to being spoken back to because she looks stunned.

Before she has time to respond, I turn to Nastasia. "Why don't you come with me?"

"Thank you," she mouths, timidly getting up and following me back to our table. I look back over my shoulder, and to her credit, Devorah doesn't challenge me. The room returns to the status quo—largely quiet save for Mariana's chatter.

"Are you okay?" I say.

Nastasia nods.

"You don't have to tell me anything," I say, "Only what you want."

She nods again, this time with a faint smile on her face.

Suddenly, the speakers are back, the door is opening, and my stomach churns. Even though the boredom is bad, this feels even worse.

"Rafael Ortiz, please come with us."

Rafael gets up uncertainly from the spot on the floor where he was messing with the screws from the deconstructed picnic table, his expression wondering if he did something wrong. Was it wrong for him to take apart the table? Oh gosh, I have _no_ idea what they consider acceptable behavior! What if they punish me for something I didn't know I wasn't supposed to do?

I look at Nastasia, but her face remains calm, completely different from the rest of us. She must know something, but even if I won't press her, I can read her face as a danger-ometer.

Before Rafael returns, they call Mariana. And then Serena. Part of me begins to panic when none of them return, but Nastasia remains calm. The least I can do for myself is not panic. Then they call Nastasia. She glides to the door, poised and tranquil.

One by one, they call us. Kimberly goes before Kaleb, which sends him into full-worry mode, but then he's called soon after. Rabia panics when she hears her own name, but I pat her on the back and she calms down a bit. After what feels like an hour, only Devorah and I remain.

She speaks first. "Well, um…"

I lift my eyes to meet hers. To my surprise, she isn't angry. The fire, while still there, is more like smoldering ashes than a forest fire at the moment.

"This is hard for me to say… but… I'm sorry. And thank you."

I nod. I'm not good at apologizing either. "Well… it's fine."

"I… I just don't know what to do."

"Me too."

I get it. I really do. She's confused and scared, so she does whatever she thinks might give her a chance at staying alive. But isn't that what the terrorists want? If we're acting in fear, then they can manipulate us.

They release Rafael back into the room and my shoulders relax. We're not dying yet. So when I hear "Rea Monsour" from the speakers, I follow the masked men without panic.

I find myself in a small room with a desk. Though the lighting is significantly better in here than in the halls, the cold walls don't lend any warmth. Strangely, the wall across from me is a huge mirror. One-way glass? The woman sitting across from me is the first person I've seen without a disguise or a visible weapon. She looks to be in her late forties, her perfectly arranged hair falling just above her shoulders. In some ways, she looks like a politician.

"Hello, Rea." Even her voice sounds practiced, though I have to admit that her accent feels familiar.

I cross my arms. I don't like dealing with politicians. "Hello."

"How are you doing?"

What kind of a question is that at a time like this? "Who are you and where are you from?"

She smiles. "No need to be so cold. I'm Fatima. I'm originally from Lebanon, though I can't disclose where I currently reside."

Lebanon? I'm from Lebanon. "What do you want with us?"

She straightens, folding her hands in her lap. "I called specifically for you because I think you have potential."

"Potential? What do you mean?"

"Listen, Rea. You're special. I think you have the potential to be the one that gets out of all this alive."

I narrow my eyes. "Over twenty-three dead bodies? I don't think so."

"Would you rather be one of the twenty-three?"

Somehow, that question sends my blood into a boil. "I'd much rather die than have to voluntarily take a life! I'm not going to live the rest of my life a murderer!"

She sighs, and then she inspects the room. It hits me that there aren't any other guards here. Do they truly trust us to be alone with one of their people?

She hesitates before she speaks again, her voice now hushed. "Okay… I'm taking a huge risk with this, but since there's no one watching us it should be safe. I'm actually on your side."

She's… actually on our side? That sets off every alarm in my brain. "You're lying."

"How can I prove it to you?"

"Mind if I check the wall?" I say.

"Go ahead."

I get up and touch my finger to the wall. There's a gap between my finger and its reflection, which suggests that it is a real mirror. I cup my eyes and press it to the wall. Nothing.

Still, this doesn't feel right. "What about everyone else? Are they all being told the same thing too?"

She glances about another time. "No; it's just me. Each one of you was assigned to a terrorist, who is supposed to indoctrinate you into joining the organization."

Though I'm still not completely sold, this triggers my curiosity. "So you were randomly given me?"

She smiles again, and this time, it almost feels real. "I specifically asked for you. I wasn't lying about that. Out of all of you, I thought that you had the most potential to be our inside job."

"Why me?"

"You're confident and smart. You're caring. You wouldn't exploit the information for your own selfish good."

It takes me a second to process this. There's someone within the organization… and she wants to help me? "What is this organization anyway?"

"This terrorist organization claims that it is the divine hand of punishment for the world. We've managed to infiltrate it, and the world is preparing a rescue team as we speak."

This can't be true. But… what if it is?

"But it's nearly impossible to rescue you all from this base. We have to wait until they drop you in the deathmatch arena."

"You're… serious?"

She looks hurt. "Of course. What we need is for you to act as if you weren't going to be rescued."

"What does that mean?"

"If everyone suddenly calms down and starts playing nice with each other, they'll know something's up. So you can't tell anyone."

I nod. This makes sense so far.

"And… I'd hate for it to come to this… but if violence erupts like the terrorists want it to happen, we have to let it play out."

Wait. "You're saying that I might have to…"

She sighs again. "Yes… It's unfortunate, but you might have to kill. But better some dead and the rest alive than all of you executed to keep the rescue team from finding you."

I press my lips together. "I… don't think I could do that."

"Please. We need you to. For the common good."

I look into her pleading eyes, and my gut wrenches. Something just isn't right about all of this. My eyes suddenly fall on the reflection of the door in the mirror wall. There's a gap between it and the floor, and through it, I see the shoes of people standing right outside the door.

It suddenly clicks. This entire thing was a ruse. She isn't on my side. I never was really left alone with her. Her entire point was to get me to be okay with killing someone else. Though I feel angry heat rising up inside, I force myself to act torn.

"I… I can't," I squeeze out, "I'm sorry."

"Please. You have the ability to do this." There she goes again, buttering me up.

"I really can't," I say. "Can I go now?"

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, but at least keep thinking about it. And whatever you do, don't breathe a word of this to anyone."

That I can do. I don't need them knowing that I saw right through their entire scheme. I force a smile, and then the door is open and the guards are ready to take me back.

As the door closes behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief. I came so close to falling for her lies.

I've got to find a way to warn the others.

* * *

**A/N Reviews are very welcome. Please?**


	4. Acceleration

**Serena**

As the guards lead me down the hallway, back to the common room, I feel like a mess. All I can think about is how I'm so relieved that I'm out of that terrible room with that terrible man that asked me terrible questions that turn my brain into mush. I'm still not entirely sure what the entire point of that entire conversation was. All I can figure is that the terrorists are trying to create chaos in order to destabilize the status quo so that the rich don't keep getting richer? And that's why I need to be ready to kill? And then I can't tell anyone anything to protect myself? I don't know; even the bits I could put together don't make sense. And this hall is filthy! How can anyone live without cleaning staff!

A guard scans a card and the wall slides open, revealing the drab, boring warehouse where we've been kept. Surprisingly, even though I was the third one to be called, it looks like most of them were released back here long before I was. I wander back to our table, where Arielle, Justine, and… the guy who's name I can't seem to remember are sitting.

"You're finally back!" Arielle says, "What did they do to you? You look tired."

"I'm not really sure," I say. "I think my brain has stopped working."

There's a flicker in her eye, but I can't tell what it's supposed to mean. She shrugs. "I don't think any of us understand what's happening. Best we can do is stick together and stay positive."

Gosh, she's like the sweetest thing. It seems like she's always here for me. I smile. "Thanks. How about you, Justine?"

Justine is staring blankly over my shoulder. "I don't know."

"Oh, c'mon. Did they wrap your brain in circles too?"

"Well…" she says, "I've got a lot to think about."

I like Justine. I think she really should be a warmer, nicer person, but she loves books and TV shows and therefore she's literally the best person in the world. As for the other guy…

"What's your name again?" I ask him.

It takes him a second to realize I'm speaking to him. "Me? I'm Geoffrey, remember?"

I don't remember, but I nod slowly.

"Are you… okay?" he asks. "That's the fourth time I've had to remind you."

"Yeah— Of course," I say, "My mind isn't working right at the moment, but I remember… kind of." Gosh, this is awkward. Me and my big mouth. "You're from Indonesia, right?" I say, trying to reaffirm that I haven't forgotten who he is.

"No," he says, "Vanuatu."

Oops. Desperate to exit this horribly awkward conversation, I look around the room. That's when I realize that someone is missing. "Have any of you seen Damiano?"

Arielle shakes her head. "I haven't seen him, but they just brought me back not long ago. Maybe the others have."

Out of everyone I've met, Damiano is probably my favorite. Not just that, he's like the best guy I've ever met. He's kind and calm, and he doesn't tell me to shut up. Not to mention that he's good-looking—very. If all the guys at my school were like him, I'd be living in a fairytale.

Alan picks this perfect moment to wander back to our table. Somehow, his normally cheery face looks worn out at the moment. "What's going on?"

"None of us have seen Damiano," I say. "Have you?"

"Nope…" He cocks his head, thinking. "That's right. I haven't seen much of him at all because you're always begging for his attention."

I press my lips together. "Excuse me?"

He shrugs. "Strange, though. He's the only guy missing. All the rest of us are back from our mental gymnastics sessions."

"You too?"

He smiles weakly. Somehow, this one feels the realest out of everything I've seen so far. "Yes. My brain feels like it's about to split."

I'm not sure what to feel about Alan. He seems like a really nice person, but he also seems like he never really wants to talk to me. He's always wandering from table to table too. Maybe he's like those characters in books that are really nice but are always afraid of being rejected so they guard themselves from meaningful social interaction. Or maybe I'm overthinking everything.

But where is Damiano? Why would he be the last to return?

"Who was the last person to leave?" I ask.

The guy who's name I can't seem to remember—Jeff? Jeremy? Geoffrey?—replies. "When they called me, it was just Devorah, Rea, and Marcus."

I examine the various clusters of people. Marcus is sulking in the corner. Devorah isn't arguing with anyone for once and is staring at the ceiling, arms crossed. I don't know who Rea is, but since no one else says anything I'll assume she's here. I've exposed myself enough times today.

Time passes much more slowly now. After an hour (I secretly checked my phone), food is wheeled in again. Though it's just more sandwiches and they're not much good, my stomach is growling and I'll take whatever I can get.

All of a sudden, the door slides open with a bang. A large group of the masked terrorists march in, armed with menacing weapons, spreading out until they surround all of us. I reach for Damiano's study arm, but he's not there. Arielle places her arm around me, and I grasp her hand.

The speaker switches on again. "Yesterday, we made it very clear that no country was to use force against us. Still, the Italian government was foolhardy enough to ignore our warnings."

Did someone try to rescue us? Are they about to kill all of us? Another terrorist enters holding a video camera. Oh gosh, oh gosh. They're going to shoot us and record it for the world to see! Two more enter, dragging a struggling third person—

"Damiano!" I scream.

He's blindfolded and gagged, hands tied behind his back. Still, he's squirming and pushing, trying to resist the two as they force him against the wall. They leave him there, where he tries to get his blindfold off. He can't run because he can't see where he is! I look around, but there are so many of them; there's no way I could rescue him.

The speaker continues. "You fools invaded Libya, thinking that we were hunkered down there. But you were wrong! And now, see what happens to those that resist us!"

The camera beeps and one of the men raises his gun. I suddenly realize what's about to happen, but I don't have time to shut my eyes before there's a loud bang and Damiano's body crumbles to the ground in an explosion of red.

The last things that register in my brain are the vile taste of vomit in my mouth and the rawness in my throat as my own screams ring in my ears.

**Alan**

More than a few people scream. I can't move, my eyes glued to the horrible scene unfolding before me. Though I've seen police beatings before, I've never seen anything on this level of brutality. The guy's apparent girlfriend retches and its stomach-churning smell threatens to cause my own stomach to expel the sandwich I just ate. A few of the terrorists stuff Damiano's body into a bag and carry it out the room, but they leave the red splatters on the wall and the floor.

As the rest of the terrorists leave, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of anything that will erase what I just witnessed from my memory, but nothing works. Serena's screaming and the bang of the gun ring in my ears as my mind plays the trigger being pulled over and over again.

Pull yourself together, Alan. Now that things are actually going down, you need to on top of your game more than ever before.

I force my eyes open, but I'm careful to avoid looking where I know the blood stains are. Where do I go from here? My gut tells me that the deathmatch will happen soon, so I won't have much time left until my odds for forging a new bond drops dramatically.

I start with my own table. Out of the three others sitting here, Marcus is the most affected. Not that he wasn't a lost cause before this—he's spent most of his time moping—but now his head is buried in his arms as he likely bemoans his pitiful fate.

Adalia has held up better than Marcus, but her stoic eyes are colder than ever. If she seemed disapproving when Ramses accused her of being responsible, she now looks about ready to kill. I raise my eyebrows when she looks at me.

"I'm going to kill them," she mouths, drawing a finger across her neck.

That anger is good for me. If she acts up, she takes the terrorist's attention off of me, and in the off chance that she manages to get us out, my lifes goes back to normal—as normal as it can get after this.

The only one of the three that seems to have recovered from the shock is Johan, the commanding Swiss that shut down the argument yesterday.

"We're running out of time," he says.

I nod. "I'll survey the damage," I say, excusing myself to make one final round around the room.

Going clockwise around the ring of tables, the next group is Rea's, which is really just Rea and Kaleb comforting three bawling girls. Kaleb has his sister's head on his shoulder, while Rea is trying to take care of both Rabia and Nastasia, of which the former refuses to be comforted and the latter looks about ready to die.

Rea shoots me a dirty look when I open my mouth. "This is not the time to talk," she says in a low voice.

I nod and move on. Though Rea seems like she would be a major contender, she's too busy caring for others to be much of a threat.

At the next table, Mariana, who's managed to be more talkative than Serena up to this point, is completely silent, gripping the table so hard her knuckles are turning white as her murderous eyes stare at the floor. Rafael sits amidst the pieces of his deconstructed table, his head in his hands. The two of them, both fifteen years old, are the youngest out of everyone here. I don't bother trying to talk to Bartolomeu, the last guy here, who, for the first time I've seen, seems scared. He's a football player from Brazil, and his ego is larger than the country he hails from. He's going to make someone mad and get himself killed faster than he can run.

Moving down to the next group, I see Devorah, Ramses, and Hunter huddled together, furiously whispering, but the moment I walk up, they fall silent. All three of them stare at me with narrowed eyes.

"Is there something you wanted?" Ramses says.

"No," I say, "What's going on?"

"Mind your own business," he says.

Though I want to toy with him a bit longer, the atmosphere over the table feels like death itself and I want to get away from this as fast as I can. Something has changed since the last time I talked to them. Before, I saw fear and uncertainty. Now, I see desperation, a dangerous emotion.

Finally, I arrive at the last table. Serena hasn't stopped bawling, clutching to Arielle, who's trying to both calm her down and wipe off the bit of Serena's vomit that ended up on her sleeve. I have to resist the smile that threatens to spread across my face as I watch Arielle struggle to maintain her facade.

Justine is shockingly calm about everything.

"Are you okay?" I say.

"I… think I am," she says, "I think I can keep myself sane as long as I pretend this is all part of a story that isn't really happening."

"I guess you do whatever you have to do."

Geoffrey keeps squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them. When he notices Arielle's predicament, he pulls a tissue from his pocket and hands it to Arielle. She doesn't acknowledge him and focuses on cleaning herself off.

That's it. That's everyone. I start back towards Johan, but before I get to the table, doors open from every side of the room and terrorists file in, surrounding us like a swarm of killer bees.

"Freeze. Do not struggle."

At this point, the sound of the speaker almost triggers a vomit response, but I keep it down. Four guys surround me. When I stare into their eyes, I'm shocked to find no emotion. Only cold pleasure.

"Cooperate if you don't want your brains blown out right now," the largest of the four says, his hand on a pistol.

I nod shakily. One of the others brings his arm around my neck. My gut is screaming at me to fight. His hold tightens. My eyes are dimming. No! Stop! Get me ou…

* * *

**A/N One down already. Did you see it coming? What do you think will happen to them? Who's going to die? Who will survive? Let me know in a review!**


	5. The Island

**Rea**

I squeeze my eyes to block out the bright sunlight. Did I oversleep? Man, that was a crazy dream…

But I feel grass underneath me, and the air is humid, uncomfortable on my skin. It wasn't a dream.

I try to sit up, my head feeling duller than a rock. All of us are in a field, surrounded by rainforest. There's a patch on the ground where it looks like some kind of flying vehicle landed. Exotic bird calls fill the air, and the already harsh sun pierces my unadjusted eyes. It's somewhere tropical, but I've got no other ideas on where we are. The only notable landmark is the small tree-covered mountain I see beyond the trees.

Everything suddenly rushes back. The warehouse. The videos. The freaky woman that tried to convince me to kill. The execution. The guy that knocked me out.

Rabia's voice interrupts my thoughts. "What's going on?"

"No idea," I say. "Do you recognize this?"

"It doesn't look like any place I've ever seen in Mozambique."

Then I notice the weapons. Around us, laid in a rough ring, are knives of all shapes and sizes, ranging from the size of pocketknives to large butcher's cleavers and even machetes and harvester's sickles, not to mention the batons and clubs.

I shudder. "I guess this is the deathmatch."

"Maybe everything will be okay if no one takes any weapons."

I look around. Others have noticed the weapons too, but not all of them are keeping away from them like we are. Of course, Devorah's already looking through what we have, but Mariana's also found a small knife, twirling it in her hands. "It's a bit late for that."

But it's not just weapons. Various bags are strewn among them.

"Let's go see what's in the bags," I say.

The two of us settle on a backpack. Inide, there are crackers, dried foods, and a bottle of pepper spray.

I hand the pepper spray to Rabia. "You should take this. As a last resort."

She takes it, he hands shaking. "I think I can handle this."

At this point, everyone else is up, and we cluster together, trying to figure out what to do.

"We should all split up," Devorah says, brandishing a machete.

"I think staying together would be better," Adalia says, matching Devorah's threatening demeanor with an equally intimidating glare in her direction. "We're going to need to work together if we want to survive."

"But we're not all going to survive," she says, "They're definitely monitoring us somehow, and if we don't kill each other or at least act like we're on separate teams, they'll pick us off one by one—and I don't intend to be picked off."

I cross my arms. "But if they want us all to kill each other, then the boldest act of defiance would be to instead work together to survive," I say.

Devorah's voice is rising. "You can be bold and defiant all you want, but that doesn't change anything! Most of us are still going to die! Stop being all so 'high' and 'moral' and face reality."

Johan interrupts. "And the reality is that we have no idea where we are and what to do. What are you going to eat? How are you going to get water?"

Devorah has no response.

"If we pool our knowledge, we might be able to piece together enough to have enough food and water—unless you want everyone to slowly die of thirst."

Even she must know how horrible dying of thirst is because she backs off, shooting me a glare that says, "He defended you this time, but you won't be so lucky next time."

We split up to organize the supplies, naturally regrouping by the tables we sat at in the warehouse. Rabia, Nastasia, Kaleb, Kimberly, and I search the bags for food, collecting it into a pile, while Johan takes a group and creates a stack of non-food supplies. Devorah's and Bartolomeu's groups collect weapons.

When we stand around our three piles, it's unsettling how we have more weapons than food and other supplies combined.

"So we don't have much food," Johan says, looking at the sad pile of dried fruit and crackers. "We'll need a lot more. And there are only eight bottles of water, though they left us extra bottles with water filters."

"The breeze feels like it comes from the ocean," Geoffrey says, "The filters are useless, but we can use the plastic sheets to convert it into drinking water."

Johan nods. "Speaking of the plastic, we also have rope, lighters, compasses and a lot of backpacks. We've taken stock of our supplies, but we need to figure out what's on the island."

"The only real option is to split up," Adalia says. Both Johan and I protest, but she gestures for us to let her finish. "I hate the idea too, but that's the fastest way to survey the island. We can divide up the backpacks, compasses, and food, and we'll meet back here tonight."

I nod. It's a sensible plan.

Since there are only four compasses, we form four groups. Adalia and I are heading north. Johan is taking a group south towards the mountain. Devorah leads a group east, and Bartolomeu takes Mariana and Rafael west.

"Shouldn't each group be armed?" Devorah says just as we're preparing to leave.

I bite my lip; this just seems like a bad idea. For all we know, she could be planning to ambush another group. At the same time, we'll need _something_ if we run into hostile wildlife or terrorists.

Johan nods slowly. "It's risky… but I think it's a risk we'll have to take."

Hunter and Ramses each take a knife, fully arming their entire group. Geoffrey takes a machete, and Johan takes a pocketknife. Mariana keeps the dagger she grabbed at the very beginning, and Bartolomeu, ever the show-off, takes an intimidating cleaver. Rabia already has her pepper spray, but our group is going to need more than just that. Adalia and I look at each other, and she shrugs, taking a dagger.

"Good," Devorah says.

Somehow, that reassures me. If she wants all of us armed, that must mean that she's not hell-bent on murdering all of us. It'd be easier to kill everyone else if all of us were unarmed.

I smile at her, but she doesn't smile back. "It's for everyone's good," she says, "I'd rather not have a group disappear and get eaten by a bear or something."

I grimace. If a bear attacks, it's unlikely that we'll be able to fight it off without someone getting seriously hurt. Hesitantly, I grab a dagger too. Best case, I won't have to use it, but it doesn't hurt to have some kind of defense.

"Well then," I say, "We'll see you before nightfall."

**Serena**

I hate hiking. Hiking is dirty. Hiking is tiring. Hiking is sweaty, and to make it worse, there won't be a warm shower here to welcome me back to civilization afterwards. Why did Johan decide to take us up a mountain, anyway? Regular mountains with walking trails are bad enough; this one doesn't even have trails, forcing us to hack through the vegetation. My legs are sore from walking and my shoulders hurt from the backpack I'm carrying and my throat is dry because I haven't had any water and all I want is to wake up from this disgusting dream.

Arielle, right beside me, must feel the same way because she calls out to Johan, who's talking with Alan up ahead. "Can we take a break?"

Johan turns around and then he looks up at the sun. "I suppose so." He looks further ahead, where Geoffrey is, clearing a path with his machete. "Hey! They want a break."

Geoffrey (I'm so proud of myself for remembering his name!) shrugs and comes back to us. "Sure. We're almost there, though."

Arielle and I sit down on a large rock, and Justine goes to get a bottle of water from Johan. While Justine is gone, Arielle whispers in my ear. "Do you think it's safe to take the phone out now?"

"Maybe," I whisper back. Justine has stopped to talk with Alan, so I keep going. "Why was it a bad idea to take it out in the warehouse again?"

"The terrorists might've taken it away. And the others might've hurt you for it."

I nod. "Now I remember."

She pauses for a moment. "Are your boots waterproof? They're super cute."

"You like them? They were custom made! They're not waterproof, though."

"You might not want to keep your phone down there then," she says, "If we have to walk through water, you won't have time to move your phone somewhere safer."

That's brilliant. "Arielle, you think of everything! I'll do that right now!"

I turn around to face the jungle and slip the phone out from my boot, but before I slip it in the backpack, I sneak a peek at it. It's a little after noon, and the battery is now 20%. I suddenly realize that I don't have a way to charge it.

"Is there any signal?" Arielle asks.

"Nope," I say, waiting in vain for the bars of data to pop up again. I slide it into a small pocket in the backpack where no one will notice it.

Justine returns with a bottle of water. "What's going on?"

Caught in the moment, my mouth struggles to find words, but Arielle picks a flower off the ground, smoothly diffusing the situation. "Isn't it pretty here?"

Justine frowns. "If you can ignore the bugs and humidity. Here, take a little water. We have to be careful not to use too much, though."

It doesn't feel good hiding this from Justine. We're supposed to be friends, and that means that I should tell her about the phone. I'll wait for a better chance.

Both Arielle and I take a little water, and then we're off again, trekking through the forest, which gradually gives way to scrubbier vegetation. After a while, Geoffrey calls back from the front. "We've made it to the top!"

Energized, all of us press forward onto the rocky top of the mountain. It's actually not a single solid top but a huge ring with a depression in the middle. Geoffrey says that this means the island is volcanic.

When I see the view of the island and the ocean beyond, it feels like everything was worth it. Looking down the way we came, it seems like this island is actually really small. All three of the other groups probably already hit the ocean, since from here, I can tell that the terrorists placed us in a clearing on the northern end of the island. Further out, it's just water as far as I can see.

Johan and Geoffrey say they'll loop around to see the southern side of the island, and Arielle and Alan both volunteer to go with them.

"Well… why do you all give your bags to me?" I say, trying to come up with a reason not to go. "Justine and I can watch them, right?"

Justine nods gratefully, and when no one objects, they leave the bags in a pile, which conveniently offer me a place to sit while the two of us wait.

"This feels like something I'd watch on TV," she says, wondering aloud. "What if this is all just a reality show?"

"That would be so cool," I say, "Though I'm not sure how they're monitoring us."

"Maybe a lot of the others are all actors," she suggests, "Maybe Damiano was an actor. And Devorah."

"I hope so," I say, "I really want to believe that they're not dead."

There's a pause as we listen to the wind, and then it strikes me that this is a chance for me to tell Justine my secret. I look over my shoulder to make sure the others are out of earshot.

"Hey, Justine."

"Yeah?"

"I've got a secret to tell you."

Her eyes light up. "A secret? What is it?"

I smile and pause for dramatic effect. "I actually have my phone with me."

She covers her mouth. "No way! You're joking. Now I'm sure this is a TV show."

"I'm serious! Look!" I unzip the pocket where I left it to find nothing there. Maybe I got the pockets mixed up. I check the one beside it, but it just holds a pack of dried mangoes. My phone is gone!

"Where is it?" she says.

This has to be the worst thing that's ever happened to me! I frantically check the various pockets again and again, but my lovely pink phone is nowhere to be seen!

"It's gone!"

"Where did you last see it?"

"I used to keep it in my boot, but then I moved it to this pocket, and now it's gone!"

She looks around, checking underneath all our backpacks. "Maybe it fell out."

It's in this horrible moment that everyone else returns, Johan and Geoffrey in front.

"It's just more ocean on the other side," Johan says, "And Geoffrey noticed the faint outline of land on the west side of the island. It's way too far for us to reach, though."

Alan and Arielle follow behind them, arguing about something. I'd ask Arielle to help me find my phone, but I guess it's just me and Justine now.

On the way down the mountain, Johan and Geoffrey walk in front, talking about survival, Alan and Arielle fight the entire way, and Justine helps me search under every rock and bush to no avail. My phone is gone.

We're the last group to return to camp, just as night is falling, and we all report what we found. Rafael says they found a small natural harbor with a beach on the west side but not much else. Adalia and Rea found a small pond with freshwater to the north, so they filled several of the filtration bottles. Devorah's group caught some fish in the shallow waters off the east side. As I suspected, we had to do the most walking, but my sore legs are nothing compared to the frustration of knowing my phone is gone. Arielle is still mad after arguing with Alan all day, so I find Justine instead, sitting facing the fire that Hunter started.

"Well…" she says, fumbling with words, "At least you don't have to worry about it any more."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no signal here, and you've had to be so secretive about it. Now you have one less thing to worry about."

I shrug. "I guess."

"And everything is backed up, right? So you didn't lose anything."

I nod. "Thanks. I guess it was just dead weight on this island."

She smiles and leaves to go get something to eat. To my surprise, Hunter sits down right beside me.

"I don't know much about you," he says, "But you're the only one from home."

He is right—vaguely. The accent sounds like home, at least, and it's almost comforting.

"What do you make of all this?" he says.

"I… I think I'm still in denial," I confess, "I want to pretend that everything's reality TV or something."

"I don't know what to do myself," he says, "If it comes down to it, I don't know if I could kill. Or if I want to."

I shudder. "I know I couldn't."

"I've hunted animals before, but this is different." He pauses. "I'm almost scared of what I might do if it gets that bad."

"You think you would kill someone?"

"I'd like to think I wouldn't, but I might."

I sigh. "Then at least you stand a better chance than I do."

He shrugs. "Then let's hope it doesn't come down to that."

I nod. Hoping is all we can do.

* * *

**A/N Another peaceful day, I suppose, but how long do you think it will last? Who's going to kill first, and who's going to die first? Anyone looking like they're set to survive/die? Review (wink)!**


	6. Eruption

**Alan**

If I thought sleeping in the warehouse was bad, then sleeping in a tropical grassland is worse. Last night, almost every time I was about to fall asleep, I thought I felt a bug crawling on my skin and I had to chase it off. To make things worse, I'm waking up to the pitter patter of cursed rain on my face.

Around me, everyone's getting up, already soaked without anywhere to hide from the rain. Well, everyone except Geoffrey, who was the only one of us to build a shelter before he slept last night. Even now, he's still asleep, dry in the shelter he built between two trees at the edge of the forest. Maybe I've overlooked him so far; he's rather intelligent.

"Let's split up in groups and figure out where to build shelters!" I say as a huge lightning bolt splits the sky in two.

Devorah quickly agrees for the first time I've ever seen. "I'll take a group down by the cliffs."

I interrupt before everyone else forms their own groups. "Arielle and I will cover the dense portion of the rainforest."

Arielle stares at me, more confused than a deer in headlights.

You see, I noticed something unusual yesterday—the lump in Serena's boot disappeared when we took a break on the hike up the mountain. Though I haven't seen it for myself, I'm willing to bet that someone stole the phone. But why would I suspect thievery? Serena's big mouth is no secret. She's likely told both Justine and Arielle, her "best friends," so both of them are suspect. On top of the mountain, when we left Serena and Justine guarding the supplies, we returned to find them searching for something, which leaves Arielle. Besides, around the same time, I noticed a slight lump in Arielle's boot.

Long story short, this is my chance to get my hands on the phone, which might be my ticket off this cursed island.

"C'mon," I shout at Arielle, who's just standing there pitifully, "Let's get moving."

She glares at me, already grumpy from the rain, but she doesn't object. We venture into the forest, with me in front of her, scanning for anything that could be used for cover. At the same time, I keep my eye on the other groups, making sure we wander away from them.

After a few minutes of walking in soaking rain, we find a clump of banana trees, from which I strip the leaves and hand them to Arielle, who's just complaining about everything.

Suddenly, there's a thunderclap and the rain pours down even harder.

"Hey," I call out, "You want to take cover for a little bit?"

She coughs. "Yes! Please! This rain is disgusting!"

We huddle under the umbrella-like leaves, trying to avoid the torrents of water.

There's an awkward silence. "So, what do you want?" she asks.

I try to make a friendly smile. "Just thought I'd apologize for being a douchebag yesterday."

She doesn't smile back. "Of course you are."

Maybe provoking her yesterday wasn't the smartest move. "I'm serious. I really do regret trying to push your buttons."

"At least you admit it."

After another awkward pause, I try again. "Don't you wish there were a way to contact the outside world?" I say, my eyes studying every movement on her face.

She flips her hair, and stares back as if nothing were wrong. "Yeah. We'd probably already be off this disgusting place."

"Yeah. There wouldn't be anyone with a phone, would there?"

She purses her lips. "No. I don't think so." She looks back up. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just wondering where such a device may be."

"Stop playing games with me and get to the point."

"Okay then," I say. "I'll be honest with you. I know you have the phone."

"Phone? What phone?"

"Don't play dumb. I know you stole it from Little Miss America, and you'd better hand it over."

She backs away slightly, her back now in the rain. "I don't have any phone."

If I don't move quickly, the prey will fly away, even through the rain. "If you don't hand over the phone, I'll tell her that you stole it. And I know exactly how to prove it."

"You can't prove anything. She's my friend. She wouldn't believe your lies."

Ha. Admission. "Why not? You were with her all day. Only you and Justine could've taken her phone. Besides, even if she doesn't believe me, I know many others will."

"Her phone dropped out! I found it on the ground and didn't want everyone to know about it, especially since some people might kill for this. Besides, I don't care what others think."

"You should. There's a weapon-wielding girl here that doesn't like thieves," I say.

"Are you threatening my life?"

"Maybe. There's no law against that here." I smile for good measure.

Even though she protests, I must've done something right because she only watches me wide-eyed when I reach for her boot and pull out the phone, wrapped in a plastic bag. "Thank you."

Then the trance is broken and she dashes back into the forest through the pouring rain, headed towards camp.

I'd call this a success. I pull the phone out, but when I turn it on, I'm greeted with a red "1% Battery" warning over a lock screen that says, "May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor." Crap. Even worse. before I can try anything else, the phone buzzes and shuts down.

Hmm… this is one of those phones with wireless charging enabled. From my conversations with Rafael, I pieced together that he's basically an engineering genius. Maybe he can find a way to charge it using wires from the flashlights or something.

The rain slows and I head back to camp, carrying the bulky stack of banana leaves. When I enter the field, I see the piles of branches and leaves, ready to use for shelter. As I expected, Rafael is at the foot of the pile, messing around with some of the pieces.

"Hey," I say, settling down beside him.

He gives me a deer-in-headlight expression. "What?"

"Just saying hello."

"Oh," he says, "Just hello?"

"Well," I say, "I've noticed that you're quite good with building things."

He smiles, embarrassed. "Thanks."

"Are you any good with electrical engineering?"

He pauses. "I've built a little of my own stuff back home, but I'd hardly consider myself an expert."

"What do you know about wireless charging?"

"It's pretty easy to do nowadays with an electrical source and suitable wires. Why?"

I look around to make sure no one is close enough to hear. "I've got a big favor to ask you, but you can't react to it out loud, okay?"

He nods slowly. "Okay…"

"I have Serena's phone on me."

"What? How—"

"Shhh! I can't answer all your questions right now, since everyone else is pretty close by. It's dead, but it accepts wireless charging. Could you charge it?"

He rubs his chin. "Does she know you have it?"

"That's besides the point."

"I don't like this…"

"But this could be our way off the island! If we can get a message out, no one will have to die."

He hesitates. "I'll do it."

I slip him the precious plastic bag, and he slides it into the inner pocket of his jacket. "Thanks."

"If this goes wrong…"

"I'll take full responsibility."

**Rea**

I'm starting to think that everything might work out. We survived another day, this time without too much bickering—though I'm pretty sure that was because everyone was focused on survival.

Speaking of survival, looking around, I almost feel proud of us. A group used the plastic sheeting to build solar water stills to convert ocean water into more drinkable water, just in case the small pond disappears or gets contaminated. We have a steady supply of fish, and someone's apparently been teaching people where to find edible roots because people have been eating them all day without consequence.

The sky is rapidly dimming as the sun sets. Are the terrorists watching us right now? And if they are, are they broadcasting our plight to the world? If so, I'd like to hope that we're showing them the power of humanity to stick together and brave through even the worst circumstances.

"Hey," Johan says, stooping beside where I'm sitting and holding a large bag.

"What's up?"

"I was looking through our non-weapon supplies again, and I realized that many of the 'flashlights' weren't flashlights at all."

"Then what are they?"

"They're electrical weapons." He points it at the ground, and there's a brief flash of light.

I shudder. "So our weapons pile grows larger."

"But they're also extremely useful for defense," he says, "You wouldn't have to kill someone to keep them from killing you."

"You think it will come to that?"

He thinks for a moment. "I hope it doesn't, but I don't know. And that's why I think you should take one."

I press my lips together. I already carry a dagger; I don't want a second weapon on me. "I should be fine with just a dagger."

"Up against Devorah's machete, that dagger won't do anything."

"Then I'll take a flashlight," I say, "They're military ones, right? The light's enough to blind any attacker temporarily, and it's heavy enough to hurt if I have to use it as a club."

He sighs. "Fine then, but I'd rather you be safe. We need to be prepared in case people start killing each other."

He hands me the heavy flashlight. It's now completely dark, so I flick the switch towards the forest. Even though I'm a good distance away from the trees, the bright beam makes a clear circle of light. I wouldn't want that in my eyes. I mess around a bit more with the light levels before I place it beside my backpack.

Near the supply piles, someone has started a fire, so I pick my stuff up and move over, sitting down beside my now-good friends, Kaleb, Kimberly, and Rabia. Nastasia's here too, but she still barely speaks.

"How's it going?" I say.

"It's been a good day, surprisingly," Rabia says, flashing that rare smile.

I give her a hug. "And I'm sure we'll have many more," I say. "How's the situation looking?"

"Well…" Kaleb says, "Devorah and Co seem okay with how today went."

"That's good," I say. "Devorah calm is half the battle."

"Don't hold your breath, though," he says, "Arielle and Alan have bad blood."

That's news to me. "Really?"

"Yeah. I have no idea what's been happening, but they're really messing up everyone else's vibes."

"At least they're not the type to kill," I say. "At least, I hope."

The only light left now is from the moon, the stars, and the wonderful, roaring campfire.

Suddenly, shouts erupt from the other side of the fire.

"How dare you!" Serena says, marching up to Alan, "You! You good-for-nothing, manipulative thief!"

Alan throws up his hands. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"How dare you take stuff out of my bag!"

"I didn't steal anything from you!" he says, "I got it from your fake friend Arielle!"

I look to Kaleb, who points at Arielle's smug figure, watching the drama with her arms crossed and an evil smile on her face. I knew Arielle wouldn't go ahead and kill, but I didn't expect her to start drama. As the tension in the air climbs, I notice Mariana clutching her dagger. I reach for my flashlight.

Serena continues her tirade. "You're a liar! You steal _my phone_, and now you try to pin it on sweet Arielle? Douchebag!"

Phone? Phone! There's been a phone here this entire time and no one's done anything?

Devorah must've had the same thought because she leaps to her feet and interrupts Serena's rant. "You've had a phone this whole time? Why didn't you say anything?"

Serena shows no intention of admitting guilt. "I didn't want the terrorists to take it from me, but I clearly had more than terrorists to worry about!"

"You're more worried about your stupid phone than all of our survival?" Devorah says, eyes blazing hotter than the campfire, "It's our second day here and it's the first I've heard of it."

Johan interpolates himself between the two, holding both of his hands up. "Calm down! We can talk this through."

Both girls pause.

He continues. "Serena— you have a phone?"

"I did—before this douchebag stole it from me."

Johan turns to Alan. "Did you?"

"I didn't," Alan says, defending himself, "I took it from Arielle, who stole it from her."

"Do you have it with you?"

"Yes, but it's dead now. Someone's been wasting the battery…"

Furious, Devorah starts again, but Johan silences her. "Would there be any way to charge it? We have batteries in the flashlights."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Serena says coldly, her arms folded tightly over her chest and her eyes glaring at Alan. "There's no signal here at all. We couldn't send a help message if we wanted to."

There's a moment of silence, and it seems like everything will go back to the normal peace. But looking at Devorah, I can see she hasn't calmed down.

"So much for mutual trust and peace," she says.

Johan tries to calm her down. "We can rebuild that."

"Serena just confirmed that there's no way for us to reach the outside world. If the only way out is for the last person to be extracted by the terrorists, then we might as well go ahead and kill each other."

Devorah's now holding her machete. I grip the flashlight even tighter.

"Please calm down." Johan insists.

Devorah explodes. "I'm done staying calm! Staying calm only leaves us stuck here forever—and you know what? I'm getting off this island alive!"

And with that, she slashes Johan open. Rabia screams. He falls to the ground.

When reality hits me, I grab Rabia and run, my backpack hastily slung over my shoulder and the flashlight in the other hand. I look back to see if Kaleb, Kimberly, and Nastasia are fine, but they're already gone, likely fleeing into the darkness. There are only a few people left at the fire. I make out Adalia's figure, bravely taking on Devorah. A figure appears behind her. I shout a warning, but it's too late. Ramses stabs her in the back, and she goes down. I stop watching.

My body slams into someone and we tumble to the ground. I scream. My eyes haven't adjusted to the dark. I can't see! It's not Rabia; this person is too sturdy. I grab the flashlight and swing as hard as I can in his direction. I miss. We tumble across the damp grass in the dark.

"Get off me!" I scream, trying to hit him.

The flashlight connects twice, and something cracks. The person stops moving, and I stumble to my feet, running after the sound of Rabia's cries.

I crash into the forest and slow to catch my breath. How did everything go wrong so fast? Everyone was fine just a few hours ago! Johan and Adalia are dead—is that all? Please let it be all!

Ahead, Rabia's whimpering guides me to her, and I find her curled up on the ground behind a tree. When she hears my footsteps, she screams.

"Rabia! It's me!" I say, placing an arm around her. "Shh! We can't have them following us!"

Her sobbing subsides, and she buries her face in my shirt.

I let her calm down for a moment, but we have to keep going. "Now let's get up. We're still really close to the camp. We need to go further, where they can't catch us."

She's still out of breath, but she tries her best to get to her feet.

There's someone else in the dark. "Psst! Rea!"

I would use the flashlight, but I can still see the faint light of the campfire and I don't want to alert more people to our location. "Who is it?" I whisper back.

"It's me, Kaleb! Where are you?"

"I'm over here, with Rabia."

In the slivers of moonlight that make it through the canopy, I make out Kaleb's figure, followed by Kimberly and Nastasia.

"Thank goodness you're fine!" he says.

"Same for you," I say.

We don't need to discuss what to do. We tread through the dark forest as quietly as we can, trying to forget everything we just saw, everything we just heard, and everything we've experienced so far in this horrible, horrible game.

* * *

**A/N And another one (or two) bites the dust as the plot shapes up. Who are you rooting for? Why? Do you think they'll live? Let me know in the reviews!**


	7. Aftershock

**Alan**

Above me, from my makeshift "bed" of leaves beside an old fallen tree, I can see the sky beginning to brighten. I haven't been able to sleep all night. I hear the screams. I see the blood. I see Devorah's rabid eyes. The deathly atmosphere I felt over their table in the warehouse makes sense now; they've had this in mind since then. Once hope was returned and then stolen away, they put their plans into action.

And no, this wasn't my fault. Sure, I may have taken the phone from Arielle, but she's the one who decided to tell Serena despite knowing that Serena has no self-control over her mouth. It's almost as if Arielle was trying to get us killed. Besides, Arielle stole the phone, not me. I'm not the guilty one here.

Still, it's just the three of them, and I'm beginning to think that the terrorists aren't watching us at all. There's been no sign of them so far. If the rest of us gang up on the three, we could take them out and not have to worry about getting knifed in the back. Eventually some passing ship will notice us… right? But that's a plan for later. I need to find people first. Alone, I'm an easy victim.

Birds are singing now as the morning light streams into the forest. I roll over and face the trunk to avoid the light. It's no use. I can't sleep. Sore all over, I pull myself off the ground and stretch, wincing as several joints pop, and I sling on my backpack, which rustles with the extra weapons and supplies I swiped from the shared piles before everything fell apart. Looking back, I'm thankful I took extra precautions. Apart from the dagger I keep on me for easy accessibility, there's food, rope, water, and a taser in the bag, plus Serena's phone, which Rafael gave back to me to hold while he builds the charger. I hope he's okay. He's my only hope right now.

I smile. Compared to nearly everyone else, I'm more than stocked.

There's footsteps.

I duck behind a tree, gripping my dagger close. Is it Devorah and her murder crew? After a few moments, I hear excited chatter. Even worse. It's Serena, Justine, and Arielle, chirping on about some stupid TV show. I sigh. Seriously? They're the first people I meet? At this rate, they'll get themselves killed faster than we can find everyone else. Mariana, Bartolomeu, and Rafael—he survived—soon appear behind them. I guess this will have to work; it's more than half of the remaining survivors.

I step out from behind the tree. "Well, good morning," I say, "Hope you slept."

Serena jumps, but once recognition appears in her eyes, she crosses her arms. "Oh— it's you."

I could say the same, but I have to keep myself vaguely friendly. "Look, no one's going to pretend that we get along, but there's security in numbers."

"I don't want anything to do with you," she says. Gosh, I should've anticipated this. Arielle's likely spent hours brainwashing her into believing that I'm the worst human on the planet. "This entire thing is your fault."

"What will you do if you run into Devorah?"

"There's six of us," she says. "We'll be fine."

I sigh, sensing the implication that there's only one of me and that I wouldn't be fine if I ran into Devorah. "Each of them is obviously skilled. We'd be better if we all worked together."

She pauses to think about it.

I hear a rustle to my right. I whip around to see Hunter leap out from a bush. He must've crept up on us while we were busy talking. Serena screams. I should've stayed hidden; the three of them are unarmed and useless. I see Devorah barreling at us out of the corner of my eye. Shoving the girls forward, I sprint away from the two pursuers, trampling the small plants beneath us as we whip through the forest. Ahead of me are Rafael, Mariana, and Bartolomeu; they were further away from the ambush site. Justine is surprisingly fast, quickly gaining on the three of them. Serena and Arielle follow behind me. If murder crew catches up, the two girls be the first to go, so I should be fine as long as I stay ahead of the two.

I glance behind me. The same bushes that granted them cover also slowed their initial pace— thank goodness—but we can't afford to pause or they'll be upon us. There's still only two of them…

As we round a clump of dense tree, a figure leaps out, barely missing me and hitting Arielle. Ramses has his hands latched onto her backpack. She screams. I give him a swift punch in the jaw and a kick to his sternum, and he falls backwards, giving us another split second to recover as he gets in the way of the other two.

I have no idea where we're going now; we're all following Rafael because he's in front. He's small and nimble; it's even a challenge for me to keep up with him. We're not going to lose our pursuers; they're just as fast as we are. I need to do something to force them back.

The Taser. I'll need to act fast.

I clumsily flip the backpack out and grab the taser. They're closing in. Devorah's in front. I aim and fire. She falls to the ground, convulsing. I don't stop running. Behind me, I can hear Hunter and Ramses stop where she fell, and their sounds grow more and more distant until they're covered by our own footsteps as we plow through the brush.

We finally catch up to Rafael, who's stopped in a spot overlooking the ocean, and we stop, panting and trying to catch our breath.

"You're fast," Rafael comments, referring to Justine.

"Yeah," she says. "I'm a sprinter."

They pass around a bottle of water, and I take a little. I'd rather not reveal my own bottle in case things turn out for the worst.

"Well," Serena says, turning to me, "I guess it wouldn't hurt having you around." She pauses, panting. "Thanks."

"Sounds good to me," I say.

I glance at Arielle, who's still recovering from the shock. She notices my attention and glares. I saved her life. Now, she owes me.

Everything still might work out.

**Serena**

Alan is with us now.

I'm not sure what to think about this. Arielle's told me about all his lying and manipulating and stealing, and I don't like that we'll have a person like that right by us at all times. But he can fight, as he proved when he saved Arielle, and we need all the power we can get. And he has a taser! Then again, what if he's tricking us right now into letting our guards down before he kills all of us? Based on what I've heard about him, I wouldn't put it past him.

Maybe I'm being paranoid. Maybe I need to just let the entire phone incident go. We're in a new stage now, and I need to forget the past, no matter how angry I still feel when I discovered he lied and stole from me. I pause my self-reflection and look out over the ocean for a few more moments until I'm convinced I feel pensive and dramatic enough to make the big decision of forgiving him.

"Hey, Serena?" As if on cue, Alan comes up beside me. "Do you have a moment?"

I look up at him and smile. "It's fine, Alan. I've decided to leave the past behind. I've discovered that we need to work together to survive."

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Um… okay?"

Dang it. Tragically, real life doesn't play out the same way TV shows do. "Oh— it's nothing. Nothing at all! What did you want?"

"I just thought you might want your phone back," he says, pulling my precious pink phone in its protective plastic bag out of his pocket.

"Oh— Yes! Thank you!" I say, grabbing it from him. I press the power button, but it doesn't turn on.

"You know it's dead… right?"

"Yeah. I couldn't keep myself from hoping, though."

"You might want to talk to Rafael about that. He's some kind of whiz kid, apparently."

"Okay."

There's an awkward pause, the kind that tells the viewer of a show that something will go down between the characters, whether for good or for bad. Or maybe it's just Serena trying to apply TV show logic to real life again.

After I inspect the screen to reassure myself that there are no new cracks, I go find Rafael, who's squatting over a few untangled wires.

"Hey, Rafael."

He holds up his hand for a moment, concentrated on the wires, before he responds. "Oh, hello."

"Well… my phone is dead, and Alan told me to come find you. Do you have a way to fix it?"

"Yeah, of course," he says without batting an eye, "It will be very slow, though. Maybe a few days for only a few percent."

I sigh and hand him the phone. "Well, it's better than nothing. Don't crack it, okay?"

He rolls his eyes in a boyish way. "Don't worry. Your phone will be fine."

I turn to go find Justine so we can talk about who the protagonist in _Below Twelve_ should've chosen to marry, but Rafael calls after me. "Serena!"

"What is it?"

He looks around for a moment. "I know this is going to be hard for you to believe," he whispers, "But you need to be very careful."

"Why?"

"It's Arielle. I think there's something up with her."

Arielle? No way! "You're crazy! Arielle is one of sweetest and funniest people I've ever met!"

"I'm serious," he says, "She acts differently when you and Justine aren't watching. I'm telling you; she's fake."

I shake my head. "Trust me; I know her better than you do. She just gets mad sometimes because Alan keeps picking fights with her."

He pauses and then sighs. "If you're so sure…"

"I am. She's wonderful! You should get to know her."

He goes back to his wires and I go back to finding Justine, but Rafael's ridiculous accusations bug me. Where do these people get their ideas? Imagine not loving Arielle!

**Rea**

Somehow, I'm alive.

The thought doesn't make me happy at all. In fact, it's downright depressing. When I close my eyes, I still see Johan's brave figure, standing up to challenge Devorah until the end. I think of Adalia, choosing to stay and fight instead of run. But me? I'm a coward. I ran. They deserve to be alive more than I do.

Someone comes around to the place I sit, staring out into nothing. It's Kimberly. "Are you okay?"

I nod and swallow. "I guess. I shouldn't be moping around anyway. There's stuff we need to do."

"I think it's okay to pause in your emotions sometimes," she says, "You can't keep your feelings hidden forever."

"But I feel like I'm stuck. I can't get over the… the horrible stuff we saw last night."

Kimberly sighs. "Me neither. But I talk over it with Kaleb and it makes things a lot more bearable. Do you want to talk?"

Maybe. Do I? "I don't know if I have anything to say."

"Then where do you want to go from here? We've all got to move on, somehow."

Move on? I've spent all my time brooding about the past. I haven't spent any time thinking about the future. "I… I don't want to die. But I don't want anyone to die. I want all of us to stay alive."

She doesn't respond, joining me in staring off into nothing.

"Even if it comes down to it… I don't think I could ever kill. Not even Devorah, or Hunter, or Ramses. Could you?"

"...Maybe. Only if it's to protect Kaleb. I'm sure he'd say the same about me."

The wind picks up, and neither of us speak.

I start. "I think I do have something to say…."

"What is it?"

"I feel like a failure. I want to protect everyone, but I can't. All I can do is run away and close my eyes and hope everything turns out for the best."

She places an arm around me. "Rea, you're awesome. We need visionaries like you."

"Even if I can't do anything?"

"You do more than you think. Like Nastasia. You rescued her. You can't say that you didn't do anything there."

"But still…"

"And Rabia! She's opened up so much ever since you started caring for her."

"You're right…"

"Speaking of Rabia, she's been worried about you all day, but she's too afraid to bring it up."

I smile, a little. "Good to know. What've you all decided to do?"

"Kaleb took inventory, and we basically have no supplies. We ran into Geoffrey just earlier, and he showed us some edible roots, but we need water. We're thinking about going back to see what we can find at the old camp."

"Is it safe?"

"We won't know unless we try. There's no telling where Devorah, Hunter, and Ramses."

I follow Kimberly back to where the rest of them are. Rabia's eyes light up when she sees us returning, and I give her a smile. "I guess we go."

Kaleb's sense of direction is excellent, so he takes the lead in finding our way back to camp. We try our best to tread softly through the forest, but only Rabia and Geoffrey are any good at it. Halfway back, I fall into step beside Nastasia, who's been quiet this entire time.

"Are you okay?" I say.

She nods and gives me a forced smile.

"You don't have to act around us, you know?" I say, "I just want to get to know you. The real Nastasia."

She lets the smile go. "Thank you."

"So… tell me about yourself!" I say. "What do you like you do? What's your family like? I'm really curious."

"Well… my father is the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Russia, and he's very successful in just about everything. I want to be successful too, but I want to do something with computers."

"Computers?"

"I know; it's unusual. But I've been interested in computers ever since I was a little girl. My father let me learn how to code, but he wants me to do something more 'refined.' "

"You already act very 'refined,' " I say, "With the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you hold yourself… You don't need some fancy job for that!"

"He has a lot of expectations for me. Apparently, computer scientists aren't socially respected enough for him."

"Are you good with computers?"

She hesitates. "Some people would say that. I've spent a lot of time with them."

"We're here!" Kaleb interrupts from up ahead. "It doesn't look like they're here, but…"

"But what?" I say.

"Well… it's not pretty."

I rush up to him, and he points at the body on the ground out in front of us, a little bit a ways from the remnants of the campfire even further ahead of us and almost right up to the forest's edge. It takes me a moment to recognize him, but it suddenly hits me that it's Marcus.

I rush over, but when I touch his hand, the coldness instantly tells me that he's dead. "Who could've done this to him?"

Kaleb carefully flips him over. "There aren't any knife wounds, so I don't think it was Devorah's group. It looks like… someone hit him multiple times in the head," he says, trying to avoid looking at the ugly dent. "He doesn't have a weapon either."

Body. Near the edge of the forest, away from the active killers. Killed by blunt force to the head.

I gasp as it clicks. "No… it— it can't be!"

Rabia's eyes widen as she realizes too. "Rea… this was your kill… wasn't it?"

I sink to the ground and cover my eyes. Rabia and Kimberly try to soothe me, but I ignore them and try to make everything go away. When Rabia and I fled the violence that night, the person we ran into wasn't trying to kill us. Marcus must've crashed into us on accident in the dark, and I—

I've done what I said was impossible.

I killed another person.

* * *

**A/N: Who knew that schoolwork makes it harder to find time to write? I really appreciate those of y'all that've stuck around my rushed story. **

**The deaths are piling up... who's the next to go?**


	8. Cracks

**Serena**

The sun's beginning to set. The seven of us hang around our dying fire in a rough circle.

"We need people to keep watch tonight," Alan says. "There are so many of us. If they find us while we're all sleeping, it'll be a bloodbath."

I shiver. It was a miracle Justine, Arielle, and I slept through last night in peace. Maybe we got lucky.

"There's seven of us, right?" Justine says. "If we split it up, everyone gets to sleep longer."

"But we can't trust everyone," Rafael says. "What if the one person murders everyone else in their sleep?" He talked to me yesterday about Arielle. My reassurance must not have change his opinion of her.

"None of us would do that," I say.

"Or takes supplies and runs," he says. "We have a lot of supplies between all of us."

"We could split into groups," Alan says, "But we'd have to form three groups, since seven doesn't form neat pairs."

Justine nods. "One group of three, two groups of two."

"We should pair with people that we don't know," Rafael says, suspicious as always, "Just in case someone is working with someone else to kill the rest." No one objects. "Maybe… Arielle and Alan, or something like that?"

Arielle immediately objects. "No way that's happening."

"Then I guess we'll have to pick randomly."

Rafael picks three twigs of different lengths and holds them in a fist, lining them up so that we can't tell which one has what length. Justine, Arielle, and I pick first, and then we give them back so Mariana and Bartolomeu can pick. Justine and Bartolomeu both picked the longest twig, so they form a pair. Rafael gets paired with Arielle because they both pick the medium twig, much to his dismay, and I get paired with Mariana. Finally, Alan picks a twig to determine which group he goes with, and he draws the medium one. Arielle crosses her arms, but Rafael's shoulders relax. Gosh, why can't they all just get along?

So it's decided. I get the first shift with Mariana, and we're supposed to watch for four hours using Rafael's pocketwatch, after which we wake up Rafael, Arielle, and Alan, who then watch for four hours before they get Justine and Bartolomeu.

"Should we put out the fire?" Rafael asks. "In the dark, it'll lure them to us."

"It could be a sign of confidence," Alan says, thinking, "But you're right."

Bartolomeu volunteers to go get water from the nearby ocean while most everyone else finds a sheltered spot to sleep, whether on bags, leaves, or anything they can find. Mariana grabs a knife and pokes at the ashes around the fire, while I settle down on a rock. What do we even do for four hours?

Honestly, the thing we all need right now is a shower. It's been… five days without showering? Or deodorant? Some people are beginning to stink.

Speaking of water, Bartolomeu returns with his waterproof backpack full of water to put out the fire. He says something I can't understand and suddenly dumps it on top of both the fire and Mariana, who was right next to it. She shrieks and leaps to her feet, screaming at Bartolomeu. He laughs and says something else that sets her off even more. I look at Justine, who looks back at me with a nonchalant face. I guess it could be funny—smaller, short Mariana shouting at the much taller, buff Bartolomeu—but in this setting, any kind of anger is unnerving.

Mariana points her knife at Bartolomeu, furious at being soaking wet. Rafael runs up to her, speaking calmly. She kicks Bartolomeu hard in the shin and stomps off. Rafael runs after her (they spend a lot of time together…), and Bartolomeu is left rubbing his sore shin. I breathe a sigh as it quiets down again. Gosh, I hope Devorah didn't hear that entire thing go down. Maybe they're on the other side of the island.

Eventually, Mariana returns, quiet but still scowling, and she sits down with her knife in hand, glaring at anyone who looks at her. At least anyone that attacks us now is going to be met with the full fury of angry Mariana. On the topic of attackers, I should probably be armed myself. I look in my bag, only to remember that the only defense I have is pepper spray. I guess this is as good as anything. I can't fight anyway.

Night falls completely over the island, and soon, the only sound is the heavy breathing of Bartolomeu. I push the light-up button on Rafael's watch. It's only been thirty minutes. How am I going to last four hours without my phone?

In the moonlight, I find Mariana's figure, her face hidden in the shadows. "Hey," I whisper.

She looks up, and moonlight shines across her face. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Hmph," she says, "I hate him. He's such a horrible person."

"How?" I barely know him.

"He's always talking about how awesome he is. Like, 'I've been on national television multiple times,' " she says, mocking him, " 'Look at me and how utterly amazing I am!' Amazing? An amazing idiot."

I think back to training. Now that I think about it, they did seem to argue a lot.

"And he constantly treats me and Rafael like we're worse than him just because we're not famous football players like he is. And because we're both younger and smaller. "

"Huh? Oh…" It takes me a second to realize that she says football meaning soccer. "Why do you two put up with him?"

Though it's hard to see in the darkness, I think she shrugs. "Because he's strong, I think. We need some way to survive. Bartolomeu, as stupid as he is, has a chance against Devorah in a fight. Rafael and I can only run away. We can't fight—and he knows that! Ugh! I hate him!"

"Well… there's the rest of us now. Me, and Justine, and Arielle," I say, "None of us are super strong alone, but we might be able to win as a team."

"Do you trust them?" she says.

"Of course! Arielle and Justine are the nicest people in the world."

"What about the new guy?"

"Oh, Alan?," I say, "He seems nice so far… and he saved Arielle when Ramses attacked us earlier today… so I guess I trust him."

"You trust people easily."

Ouch. It's even worse because I know it's true. So I don't respond, and we somehow manage to survive the rest of the four hours without dying of boredom. When it hits four hours, I give Mariana a thumbs up.

I shake Arielle. "It's your turn."

She groans and bats my hand away before she realizes what's happening. "Huh? Oh…"

I smile, but I don't think she sees it. With her up, I snuggle in a pile of leaves using my bag as my pillow. The day must've been exhausting because though the leaves are so uncomfortable, I find my eyelids drooping and I sleep…

The birds wake me up. The sun is about to rise. I silently get to my feet and tiptoe closer to the ocean, just in time to catch the sun peeking over the horizon in all its glory. No one else is up, so I must be the first one…

Wait. No one is awake? Where are Justine and Bartolomeu? They were supposed to be awake for this watch!

I scan our scattered camp, and I find Justine asleep, leaning against a tree. "Justine! Wake up!"

"What…"

"You're supposed to be awake!"

"Awake…?" Her eyes fly open and she scrambles to her feet. "Oh. My. Gosh. I'm so, so sorry. One moment I was awake and watching the second hand on the watch and then the next you were shaking me awake and—"

I can't help but smile as she freaks out because it's honestly too relatable. "At least nothing happened. We didn't get attacked."

She catches her breath. "Whew… if someone died on my watch… I don't think I could live with that."

"It's fine! But… why didn't Bartolomeu wake you up?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. We kinda just acknowledged each other's existence and then sat in the shadows. I didn't see him at all afterwards."

I look around as others are getting up. No sign of Bartolomeu. "Where even is he?"

"Who?" Alan says, rubbing his eyes.

"Bartolomeu," I say.

"Wouldn't you know?" he says, indicating Justine.

"We both sat in the darkness…" she says, tip-toeing around having to explain that she fell asleep, "…and I didn't see him at all after we both got up for our watch."

Alan looks around. At this point, everyone else has overheard our conversation and begun looking as well. "That's weird… Where did you see him sit down?"

"Over by the bushes," Justine says, "On the side of the really thick tree."

We walk over to the spot, and Alan stoops down to inspect the scene. "There's definitely a sign that he sat here… We need to find him."

"Why?" Mariana says, crossing her arms. "It's probably better for us that he's gone. Let's not waste time."

"If he's dead… I don't want to see the body," Arielle says.

"But we need to know if he's alive or dead," Alan insists.

I look at the others, and we all know he's right, even if we don't want to admit it.

Justine gasps. "Look!" she says, covering her mouth with one hand and point to a red splotch on one of the large leaves nearby. "Is… is that blood?"

Arielle groans. "Oh no…"

We split up to look around.

"Hey!" Alan calls from a dense clump of bushes, "Um…"

"What is it?" Arielle replies. Gosh, I can't tell if they really hate each other or not. They genuinely seem to, but then they act as if nothing's wrong.

Focus, Serena. This is not the time to start shipping people.

"If you're squeamish…" he says, "You shouldn't come over here."

We all slowly head over to the clump of bushes where Alan is standing. Arielle rushes over and looks down and then she turns back to us, gagging. Curious, the rest of us take a peek.

I instantly regret it. It's a dead body—Bartolomeu's dead body—mouth stuffed with a gag and eyes wide open in terror. There's so much blood; I don't look long enough to figure out where it's from or how he died.

"Who could've done this?" Justine says.

Silence. I look at the rest of them. None look me back, other than Alan.

"Maybe," I say, "It was Devorah? Maybe they thought they couldn't kill all of us, so they only killed one!"

"All our supplies are still here," Alan says. "They would've taken our food we stupidly left out."

Rafael interjects. "It's Arielle, I'm sure of it."

"What?" Arielle says, "How could it be me?"

Here we go again. I chime in. "No way! Do you have any proof?"

"I…"

"There's no proof!" I say, "Arielle is innocent!"

Alan crosses his arms. "I'm siding with Rafael on this one."

"Come on!" I say. Arielle's been nothing other than an excellent friend, and I'm not throwing her to the wolves here. "Where's the evidence?"

"Yeah," Arielle says, "Maybe you're the killer, Alan. Trying to throw the blame on me? I know you hate me, but this is a new low."

That would actually make sense. Alan's strong enough to kill, and he's always acted a bit strange.

"Well—" he says, grasping for straws, "What about Justine? She was the last one to see him alive. Maybe she killed him."

"It wasn't me!" Justine insists.

"Them who killed him?" Alan says, pressing her further, "You tell me— you were the only other one awake during the murder!"

Justine and I look at each other. I raise an eyebrow. She sighs and nods.

"Well…" I say, "She… uh… wasn't awake. She fell asleep. I woke her up this morning."

Alan doesn't look amused. "Great. You had one job."

"I'm sorry!" Justine says.

"Tell that to him!" Alan says, pointing to the direction of the body.

The reminder of the dead body sends a hush over the rest of us.

"Wait," Arielle says, "Maybe it was Mariana? Wasn't she angry at him?"  
"That's right!" Justine says, "She hated him, right? She had a motive."

I look to Mariana, but she just stares at the ground. Did she actually do it? The knife she's holding is clean… but she might've wiped it off after murdering Bartolomeu.

Rafael protests when Mariana doesn't defend herself. "That can't be right! There's no way she could've gagged and killed him! He's so much stronger; he would've fought her off before she had a chance."

"Then maybe you two worked together," Justine says, accusing Rafael, "You were on friendly terms with Bartolomeu, right? You could've kept him calm and then ganged up on him with Mariana when he wasn't suspecting it."

Rafael puts his hands up. "You're accusing me now? I don't believe it. I'm telling you, it's Arielle."

It's obvious that no one's changing their mind, so no one speaks. After a few more minutes of silence, Alan speaks.

"So we still know nothing. We might as well just pack up and move our camp somewhere else. Do something productive while we try to figure out who killed him."

No one objects, so each of us takes our stuff and we move away from the dead body.

It fully hits me. There's another one dead. Before that, it was Johan. And then it was Damiano before that. The nightmare of Damiano's execution fills my mind with horrible images again, and I squeeze my eyes to try to forget what happened.

"Are you okay?" Justine asks. "You don't look okay."

"I'm… just thinking about Damiano."

She gives me a hug. "Let's think about something positive… like… what was the last show you binged?"

Last show… come to realize it, I haven't spent much time thinking about my favorite shows recently. "It was… _Before the Lights Go Out_, I think."

"The horror show?" she says, "It's my absolute favorite! Who was your favorite character?"

"I liked Cliff," I say, "He was such a nice guy… pity he got killed… by firing squad." Crap. Damiano images are returning.

"Uh… what about… Bea?" she says, "She was my favorite."

"Wasn't she the one that tried to kill that other guy?"

"Yeah. Her plan was pretty good too. Too bad she got killed before she set everything up."

"Then again, literally everyone died," I say.

"It was a pretty messy finale."

Somehow, thinking back to TV shows has brightened my day by a million times. "Thanks, Justine."

"It's what friends are for!"

We settle in a new spot, and Alan and Justine go to find food. I'm reading the contents and warnings on my bottle of pepper spray when I overhear Rafael talking to Arielle.

"Don't think that you'll be okay just because your friends were there to defend you," he hisses, "I know you killed Bartolomeu."

"It wasn't me!" Arielle says, hissing back at him. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"You better watch your back," he says before he leaves.

This is just like what went down in the TV show. It hits me a second time. In the show, everyone died.

I shudder.

* * *

**A/N: If you're still reading-thank you! I'd really appreciate a review... please? Who killed Bartolomeu? Who's going to make it out of this alive?**


	9. Tremors, Part 1

**Alan**

I'm still not sure who killed Bartolomeu, and I hate that I don't know. Sitting on the ground a bit aways from the rest of camp, I watch the way everyone else is acting.

Rafael and Mariana are huddled together; it looks like Rafael is trying to comfort Mariana, likely shocked from being accused of murder—or perhaps the two really did work together. But from what I know of Rafael, I find it hard to believe that he's the murderer, and Mariana would need an accomplice to take out the tall, strong Brazilian. Even then, the two would struggle to kill him. The dead body was stabbed in the chest multiple times, and Rafael and Mariana probably would've had to stab him in the back to bring him down. Though I can't discount them, I don't think it's likely.

I look at Serena and Justine and they're… talking and laughing? I vaguely make out a comment about "how hot the main character is," and I can't help but roll my eyes. You've got to be kidding me. How are they still so relaxed? I know almost for certain that Serena isn't the killer. She's spineless and gullible, believing anything her friends tell her. Her head is in the clouds. Even if she wanted to kill, she'd struggle to win a fight. When we were climbing the mountain, she was the first to get tired, which tells me that she isn't particularly strong. She doesn't have the smoothness required to manipulate anyone either.

As for Justine… She's a much more likely candidate than Serena. From my conversations with her, I've learned that she runs cross-country and loves to bike, so she has the strength to do it. Though she never put it this way, she's also revealed that she loves violent and gory TV shows. That doesn't prove anything, but it means that she can stomach the mess that comes with murder, unlike blind and naive Serena, who apparently closes her eyes when shows get too gory. Besides, she was also on watch when Bartolomeu died. She had an opportunity.

The last one is Arielle, who's sitting on a rock, poking at the dirt with a stick. Out of all of them, I suspect her the most. I've known from the beginning that she's a manipulative fox, able to change how she acts on a whim in order to get what she wants. Though she gagged at the sight of Bartholomeu's dead body, I suspect that it was faked—the night everything fell apart, she didn't seem too disturbed by the sight of Devorah killing Johan. The only thing that doesn't fit is how she's not strong enough to overpower him. I still can't put that piece together.

The evidence isn't strong, but at this point, I can't come up with any other explanation that makes more sense. Besides, Rafael is thoroughly convinced that she's the killer. He's a smart, logical guy. He must know something that I don't.

I wait until Rafael goes off to dig for edible roots to talk to him.

"Hey, Rafael," I say, walking up behind him.

He jumps. "Oh. It's you."

"Need some help?"

He looks at me suspiciously. "Where did this 'helpful Alan' come from?"

"I'm just nervous about this entire situation," I say, choosing my words carefully. I have to frame this as helping him more than helping me. "I don't like how there's a killer in the group."

He nods. "So…"

"I don't think it's Mariana," I say, "Or you."

I have his attention now. He stops digging and looks at me. "Okay."

"I'm pretty sure it's Arielle, too," I say, "But I don't have any proof."

"…Okay."

"And I know you've tried to expose her, but you haven't had a solid chance to confront her either."

He nods but doesn't say anything.

"So I say we team up on her when she's alone and make her face the evidence."

"Well… I'm not sure."

"C'mon," I say, "We don't have forever. If it really is Arielle, who do you think she's coming after next? You? Mariana?"

He stares at the ground for a moment as he thinks about it. "I don't like this… but… Okay."

"We'll just have to keep watch on her and pick a moment when Serena isn't there to back her up."

"You'll take the lead, right?"

"Of course. I just need you to present the evidence."

"I still don't like this…"

"No one likes any of this."

With Rafael's agreement, my plan is set in action. We hang around the camp, and our opportunity comes when Serena, Justine, and Mariana go off to find kindling for a fire.

I look at Rafael and raise an eyebrow.

He presses his lips together. I nod. Let's go.

"So, Arielle," I say, walking up to her until I'm almost standing over her.

She looks up from where she's sitting on the ground, digging around in her bag. "What?" she snaps. Dang, she doesn't even pretend to be nice when there's no one around to buy her act.

"We need to talk."

"No," she says, "We don't. I don't have anything to say to you."

"We need to talk about Bartolomeu."

She looks taken aback, and she covers her mouth. "Ugh. I don't want to think about that. It makes me want to throw up."

"Hmph," I say, glancing over to make sure Rafael's still there. He is, his hands balled in fists and his leg bouncing nervously. Gosh, he's flightier than a bird. "Likely. Look, we know that you killed him."

"I didn't kill anyone," she says, closing the bag and standing up. "You've been out to get me since the beginning."

"Don't make this harder for yourself," I hiss. "Spill it, or else."

"There's nothing to spill," she retorts, staring defiantly at me. "Why are you accusing me, huh? What makes you think I'm the killer?"

"Rafael's got evidence against you," I say, staring back at her, "Right, Rafael?"

No one responds. I look backwards, but Rafael is gone. My heart sinks and all I can think about is what I'm going to do to him if I ever see his traitor face again. Calm down, Alan. If you get mad, it'll all be over.

"Ha!" Arielle says, pointing her finger at me. "You scared that poor kid into ganging up on me, and now look! He's gone! There's no proof against me because I didn't do anything, scivey."

I find my hands closed into fists. That's it. "You're a snake. You've been one from the beginning. Yeah—I saw how you sweet-talked your way into Serena's gullible heart. You're nothing but a snake!"

"You call me a snake? You're a sickening keener. You try to suck up to anyone that has power. You would tried it with Damiano if stupid Serena hadn't fallen in love. Then you spent all your time pleasing Johan. And now that there's no one bigger than you, you bully poor Rafael into siding with you against me. You're a selfish son of a—"

"Shut up!" I shout. I grab her shoulders and shove her against the tree behind her. She swings at my face. I move, but not fast enough. It connects with the side of my nose. I can feel the blood running down my face. As the metallic taste enters I mouth, I slam her against the tree again, and she screams. I barely have time to consider how much I love seeing her suffer before I hear voices shouting behind me.

"What in the world!" Serena says, "Get off her!"

I turn around to find Serena and Justine standing behind me, Mariana in trail. No! This can't be happening.

"Alan tried to bully Rafael into helping him accuse me of killing Bartolomeu," she says, "And when Rafael escaped, he got mad and attacked me!"

What to do! I had no idea this could go down so badly.

She continues to jeer. "He knows I'm not the killer! He's just scared!"

"Just ask Rafael!" I say, "There's proof that she's the killer." They look around, but he's not here. "Look, I know he's not here, but I'm telling you. Arielle is the killer!"

"How do we know you're not the killer?" Serena says, "You practically just tried to kill Arielle, and Rafael's gone!"

"I'm not the killer!" I say, "If I wanted to kill Arielle, we wouldn't be shouting at each other!"

Somehow, Serena takes it. For once, her ability to believe anything actually works out in my favor.

"Let's all calm down," Justine says. "We can talk this through when everyone's calm."

I sigh and step away from Arielle, and we all sit in the tense silence. After a while, I hear some rustling in the distance. A lone figure slowly approaches.

Rafael, that… that traitor!

I meet him as he's returning with a bundle of wires.

"Oh!" he says, "H— Hey, Alan."

"How could you do this to me?" I say, "Now everyone thinks I'm the killer!"

"Well… I could tell that things were about to go bad, so I left…" he says, "Did I promise anything?"

In the moment, I want to throttle him, but I keep myself from reacting and storm off. He's the only one with any power to take down Arielle, and I can't be scaring him away.

I don't care what it takes. I'm not letting that snake get away.

**Rea**

The six of us sit around the campfire, now burning low. Kaleb's telling another one of his stories of the mishaps he and Kimberly used to get into, and he's managed to get Rabia laughing again.

"...and then he told us never to come back. But how could we stay away? It was a beautiful tree, and…"

I look over to Nastasia. She finally has a content look on her face. It's been amazing watching her transform. At first, she wouldn't talk to anyone (though that probably was Devorah's fault for scaring her), and now, she's become a part of the group.

I look up at the clearing in the tree canopy over us. The light is disappearing as day becomes to night. "It's time to go to bed," I say. "The campfire's gotta go."

Rabia makes an exaggerate pout, but then she bursts out laughing. "Okay."

We figured out a shift system for keeping watch last night. Nastasia and I take first watch, and we watch the moon's position. When it's just passing out of the canopy and entering the opening, we wake up Rabia and Geoffrey. When it exits on the other side of the opening, they wake up Kaleb and Kimberly.

As everyone settles in to go to sleep, I take one last wistful look at the ashes before I smother the last few embers of the fire. If only we could keep it going and just worry about survival on this beautiful island, not about getting killed in the middle of the night. But we're doing well so far, and it doesn't look like the terrorists are trying to get us to kill each other yet. Maybe it'll all be fine.

I grab my dagger, and Nastasia takes the flashlight. Ever since we found the body, I haven't been able to hold the flashlight without remembering how horrible it felt to kill someone, even if I didn't know I was doing it in the process.

"Is everything okay?" Nastasia asks.

I gulp. "Yes, I'll be fine. I just hate holding weapons."

She smiles nervously. "That's good."

Hmm. She doesn't seem to be in the mood to talk right now. What could've brought about the sudden change?

I wait a little longer in the dark until we begin to hear snores before I attempt a conversation again; I don't want to keep anyone awake. "How about you? Is everything okay?"

She takes a while to respond. "Yes. I'm fine, thank you."

"Than let's talk about something happy," I say. "Umm… what was your best childhood memory?"

I've figured out that though Nastasia doesn't like to talk about her present, she has a lot to say about her childhood. She says that it was like a fairytale, and if that's what we can talk about to keep her smiling, I'm more than fine with that.

"Well… I don't think I told you about the time I got a pony, did I?" she says.

"Nope," I say, "Go for it!"

She begins to tell her story, and though everything is dark, I can almost see her big smile when she describes how, when she was ten, she visited a farm and saw the ponies there. She even stops to laugh sometimes.

Before we're ready for it, the moon is getting close to peeking out of the tree cover and entering the opening in the trees above us. Nastasia's voice noticeably shifts, and she becomes silent.

"Well?" I say, "What happened next?"

"Umm…" she stammers, "Rea?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you so much for being so kind to me. I didn't want to talk to you… because… because I was scared."

"C'mon! You're awesome! Scared? Of what?"

She doesn't say anything for a moment, and her voice drops until it's barely audible. "Well… you see… I do have information that no one else knows."

"Wait… what?"

"I'll have to talk fast because the terrorists are watching, but I said I was good with computers, right?"

"Right."

"Well, one day, I discovered this weird site in the dark area of the internet. All of our names were on it, and my gut told me that something was wrong. So I did some digging…"

"Digging?"

"I know my way around security systems," she says, beginning to speak faster and faster as her voice grows increasingly tenser. "And I found this whole, horrible plan to kidnap all of us and throw us in a deathmatch to send a message to the rest of the world."

"What?"

"And— And—" She's beginning to choke on her own words.

"Nastasia! You don't have to tell me everything if it scares you," I say, going over and placing an arm around her.

She pulls away. "Don't be offended. I'm pulling away to protect you," she says, going a small distance away from the rest of us. "And I have to tell you. You deserve to know."

"Are you in danger?"

"I might be, but I can't hold this in any more," she says, fighting tears, "Once I saw the plans, I kept digging, and that's when I found all the details about how they were going to try to talk all of us into believing that killing others was the best way out."

That explains the creepy lady in the warehouse that pretended to be on my side.

"But more importantly, I found information on this island. It's not too far northeast of Australia, near Vanuatu. That's why Geoffrey's recognized so many of the plants. On the west side, there's an inhabited island not too far away, but the terrorists don't expect us to be here long enough for others to find us."

I rub my chin, trying to process everything she's telling me. "So… we could get off this island?"

"Yes," she says, "but—"

Suddenly, there's a loud sound of flapping that interrupts her, All the birds resting in the trees above take off and fly away simultaneously. A whirring sound approaches in the sky. Nastasia begins to stutter, but she tries to force herself under control.

"Nastasia!" I say, "Please—"

"Listen! I don't have a lot of time left! The best way off is—"

Gunshots. Gunshots! The sounds comes from above, and Nastasia screams as she falls to the ground.

"Nastasia!" I rush over to her collapsed body. "Nastasia!"

My hands touch something wet— blood! Blood?

I grab her hand. "Nastasia! Can you hear me?"

"Yes…" she says, her voice weak.

"Everything will be fine," I say, "You'll be—"

"No…" she says, as her words jumble into an incoherent mess "Listen… Go… Mountain… Signal… Bye…"

"Nastasia!"

She doesn't reply again. I suddenly become aware of everyone else, huddled around me.

"What happened?" Kaleb says.

"We were talking, and— and—"

I'm hyperventilating. I can't breathe. Nastasia's gone? She's dead! How? Are the terrorists up there? I scream, but my mind falls apart. Dead? Dead? She can't be dead! This has to be a dream! I distantly register the others saying something, but everything's a blurry mess. I curl up on the ground and plug my ears just as water flows from my eyes.

This is wrong. Everything is wrong. Everything is just so wrong. Let me out. Let me out!

Let… me… out…


	10. Tremors, Part 2

**Rea**

I return to my senses to find Rabia setting beside me, stroking my hair as I'm curled here on the ground. Nastasia is gone. I couldn't protect her either.

"You're awake," she says, a faint smile on her face.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I don't want to be awake."

"Come on," she says, "You can do it. I know you can."

"I can't."

"Let's get something to eat," she says.

My stomach growls. I sigh and sit up. "Fine."

Rabia brings back one of the roots Geoffrey's been collecting, this one baked in the fire. The outside is a charred mess, but the inside is starchy and slightly sweet.

"Thanks," I say.

"Of course! It's my turn to take care of you."

The other three return from the woods. When they see me awake, their faces brighten as well.

"So," I say, "What are we doing now?"

"Well," Kimberly says, "We've been talking about… her last words."

I groan. "I don't want to think about it."

"But she said something about signal and mountain," she says. "It's worth investigating what this sign is."

"I didn't see anything when I was up there," Geoffrey comments.

"It's still worth a try, though, right?" Kaleb says. "But we'll need more water since we might not be coming back. We'll have enough by… tomorrow?"

I look over to the solar water stills we built. They're our only source of water, since we only had a half-filled water bottle when we fled the violence a few nights ago.

"Sounds like a plan," I say.

But what do we expect to find up there? A sign pointing to the nearest land? Instructions on how to build a boat? Who left it anyway—terrorist or real people?

What if we find nothing?

**Serena**

I couldn't sleep last night, not after we heard those gunshots at the end of my watch. How can we sleep when someone has a gun on the island? What if it's Devorah's group? I know Hunter has experience with guns. Or maybe it's the terrorists, tired of us being alive and coming in to kill all of us. At that point, we're all doomed.

When I get up, I find Justine grumpy. Awake, but grumpy.

"Are you okay?" I say.

She sighs. "I would be if those blasted gunshots didn't wake me up and keep me from going back to sleep."

I grimace.

"Do you know how hard it was to stay awake doing _nothing_ for four hours in the dark after being deprived of my sleep?"

"You didn't talk?"

"It was bloody Alan! I'm not talking to him more than I have to."

"So you think he's the murderer?" I say.

She pauses for a moment. "No— actually, I don't. I still think think it's knife girl," she says, pointing discreetly to Mariana.

"Then why won't you talk to Alan?"

"I just know he's up to no good," she says, "I though you hated him too."

"I guess…" I say, "I'm just really confused."

"Knife girl didn't seem suspicious when you were keeping watch with her last night?"

I think back to what we even did last night. "No… we actually talked."

"Hmm…" she says, "It just seems like it'd be her."

Somehow, talking through everything with Justine only makes me more confused. I need to see if Mariana acts guilty.

I find the girl chewing absentmindedly on an aromatic leaf. "Hey, Mariana."

"Hey." She smiles a bit.

"So…" I say. How do I even ask this? "Don't take this personally, but are you the killer?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Is that what everyone thinks now?"

"No…" I say, realizing that I probably could've picked a better transition. "That's what Justine and Arielle think. I want to hear your side."

She narrows her eyes. "How do I know you're not trying to trick me?"

Ooh. That sounds like a line in a book, and it deserves a book-worthy response. "You don't," I say, "You have to trust me."

She frowns. "Trust… is a hard thing for me…" she says, nervously laughing, "Why else would I sleep with a knife?"

That also sounded just like something in a book! Sometimes, real life _does_ imitate fiction! Take that, Alan! "Just tell me," I say.

She hesitates, and looks around for a moment. "I'm not the killer," she says, "But I think Arielle is."

"Why?"

"I really shouldn't be telling you…"

"Why not?"

"You won't believe me."

"Try me." Dang. This conversation makes up for all my previous dashed hopes of dramatic dialogue.

"Then… fine," she says, leaning in. "Rafael… found some kind of sleeping powder in her bag."

"Rafael was snooping in her stuff?"

"...I guess," she admits. "But it was for a good purpose! We suspected her, so Rafael went to check. He noticed a small vial of sleeping powder when we got on the island, and he saw it in her bag."

This can't be right. Arielle is absolutely awesome! "Well… maybe Arielle has trouble sleeping?"

"I told you that you wouldn't believe me…"

"I'll have to think about it," I say, getting up.

Honestly, I'm now just more suspicious of Rafael than ever before. Has he been doing a lot of sneaking around? And why does Mariana spend so much time with him? Someone accused the two of them of killing Bartolomeu… are they really working together? My gut tells me that it's not Mariana, but she's not exactly the most trustworthy person here either.

All I know is that I'm more confused — and terrified — than ever before.

**Alan**

How should I initiate with Rafael?

I've used intimidation in the past, but that just scares Rafael away. Maybe I'll try flattery? No, that's not going to work so well anymore; Rafael's far too suspicious of me now. Today, I'll just have to be direct with him, no sugarcoating, no dramatics. Hopefully, he'll be able to tell that I'm not pretending to be anything today.

But where even is Rafael? He used to hang around camp all the time, sitting bored or chatting with Mariana, but ever since Bartolomeu's murder, he's taken to disappearing for long periods of time. I've noticed him slipping off to the west every so often—where does he go?

I take a few steps towards the western side of our camp. Though he may be quiet and restless, he clearly hasn't spent much time in nature, considering the trail of disturbed vegetation he's left behind him.

After a small hike through the woods, I can see the ocean through the trees—a different coast than the one we've been camping beside—and Rafael is rounding a clump of dense bushes ahead. When he notices me, he jumps slightly.

"Oh— Hey Alan," he says, "What are you doing here?"

"I got bored back at camp," I say, "What about you?"

"Um…" he says, "I was… gathering some resources."

He's a terrible liar, but I don't think calling him out would do any good. "You working on something around here?"

"No."

There's an awkward pause, and then there's a rustle from behind a tree. "What's back there?"

"Uh…"

I don't give him a chance to explain before I push past him and look behind the tree. Mariana stands there, staring back at me sheepishly. Did I interrupt something? I laugh. "So that's why you've been slipping away from camp? To spend time with each other?"

Rafael shakes his head. "No! It's not that!"

"Come to think of it," I say, "You two have been spending a lot of time together. You're telling me there's nothing happening between you two?"

Rafael denies it again, but his face is turning red. I guess I completely overthought this. I was under the assumption that he had some super secret plan. Turns out he's just in love.

Rafael says something to Mariana in Spanish and she leaves back the way we came. "Well…" he says, starting back himself, "What'd you want to talk about?"

I let him take the lead as we head back to camp—I'd better not seem too aggressive. "We still need a way to take down Arielle."

"Okay…"

"But I need to know why you're so suspicious of her. We can't have another disaster."

He sighs. "I guess you should know…" He scans our surroundings for signs of another person. "She has sleeping powder."

Sleeping powder! "How?"

"It was left by the terrorists, and she picked it up. Apparently she recognized it."

That snake… "So… has she used it?"

"I think so. Remember the night when Bartolomeu died, how we were on the watch right before his?"

I nod.

"Well, I remember waking him up and him being completely awake, but I heard him snoring before I feel asleep."

"So you suspect sleeping powder?"

"I can't think of another explanation."

Hmm… "That's not exactly a strong case."

"Exactly why I didn't want to jump in and confront her."

That should teach me to run ahead without knowing all the details. If only he had said something about it _before _I ran in and killed my credibility…

"So…" I say, "What if we tell Justine and Serena?"

He shakes his head. "Mariana already mentioned it to Serena, but Serena just defended Arielle. They both trust her more than me and definitely more than you."

I have to force myself not to make a snide comment on how I lost so much credibility precisely because of Rafael's betrayal… "Well… we could try to catch her in the act?"

Rafael ponders for a minute. "Who will she target next?"

"I don't think she'd taget me," I say. "That would draw instant suspicion to her."

"But… I have the same watch as her. That leaves… Mariana. Do we have to do this?"  
Bingo. He's trying to protect her. They're definitely in love. "If we move fast enough, we should be able to catch her before she kills Mariana."

"I don't like this…" he says, "What if we're too late and Mariana dies?"

"I don't know, man. I'm out of ideas and we need to do _something_."

"You're right." He sighs. "What's our plan?"

Finally, we're getting somewhere. "We don't know when she's going to strike, so we'll have to watch her every night. You and Arielle have the third watch tonight, right?"

"Yes."

"When you get up for your watch, discreetly nudge me awake," I say. "Then you act normal and I'll watch from the shadows."

"Then what?"

"Then… we wait," I say, "There's nothing else we can do until she makes her move."

"I still don't like this…"

"If it makes you feel better," I say, "I'll get up and hide somewhere near where Mariana sleeps, so I'll be able to get Arielle quickly."

"Not much better… but better."

I smile at him and pat him on the back. "Don't worry. Everything will be okay."

He looks up and forces a smile. "I hope so."

When the sun goes down, I pull Rafael aside before I go to sleep. "You remember the plan?"

"Yes," he says, determination now filling his eyes. "When Mariana wakes me up for my watch, I wake you up. You hide near Mariana and we catch Arielle if she strikes."

"Great. I've traced the path I'll take tonight to get near Mariana without making too much noise."

"Alan…" he says, looking intently at me, "Mariana won't die… right?"

"We'll have to make sure of that," I say.

He nods.

When I lie down, I'm surprised by how much my eyes immediately droop. For the past few nights, I've had plans and worries keeping me awake. It's reassuring to know that I'm not stumbling around lost anymore…

Someone kicks me in the face. It isn't hard or painful, but it's never pleasant to have a shoe connect with your mouth. In the moonlight, I see Rafael's silhouette above me, pausing for a moment before walking away. That's right. He can't alert Arielle that I'm awake.

I wipe my mouth and clamber to my feet, careful not to disturb anything that would make noise. Do they normally talk? I hope so; I need some kind of cover in order to move into position.

"Hey, Rafael," Arielle whispers, her fake sweetness back in full force. Oh well; it'll work. I let my eyes adjust, grab a dagger and a cloth I'll use for a gag, and then tiptoe down the path I planned before I went to sleep.

"Yes?" Rafael says, his voice only wavering ever so slightly. Good job!

"I made an herbal tea yesterday that's supposed to help with staying awake. Do you want some?"

I freeze. Herbal tea? More like an excuse to put Rafael to sleep! This is a rough one. If he accepts, he'll fall asleep. But if he says no, Arielle won't strike—and we won't catch her. Gah… If only I were there to tell him what to do!

"Well…" I hear Rafael say. "Sure."

"Great!" Arielle says, "Here. It's in this bottle. Take as much as you like."

Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh. Rafael better not fall asleep. He doesn't trust her, right? Argh! All I can do is trust that Rafael isn't stupid! While Arielle is moving around, I take advantage of the noise to get into position.

I'm right behind a bush—and just in time, because Rafael has handed the drink back to Arielle and the two have settled down. On the other side, Mariana is sleeping; I hear her breathing. Then all is still again. I gingerly place the knife down and grip the cloth. When Arielle comes in to attack, I'll try to get behind her, shove the cloth into her mouth, and pin her down.

Soon after, I hear gentle snoring, coming from Rafael's direction. No! He's asleep!

Wait.

Rafael doesn't snore. I know because he sleeps during my watch. That's actually rather genius. Because Arielle and Rafael always have the same watch, she won't realize that he's faking. It feels like a millions tons are being released from my shoulders. Everything is still going well.

That's when the second implication hits me. If Arielle wants Rafael out of the way tonight, she definitely is going to make her move tonight. Good thing we did too.

Arielle's figure suddenly stands up. Her head turns towards Rafael, and then in my—and Mariana's—direction.

Suddenly, voice. "Please… stay with me… forever." What? Arielle immediately sits back down. It takes a second to piece together that it's just Serena, talking in her sleep as she's likely dreaming about some fanfiction fantasy. But gosh, I came so close to blowing my cover.

A cloud covers the moon, and everything becomes dark. I can barely make out anything. There's a rustle. Arielle's moving; I'm sure of it. The sound comes closer and closer. I pick the dagger up too. Now I'm holding the cloth and the weapon.

The moon peeks out from behind the cloud, and Arielle's silhouette appears right in front of me, kneeling over Mariana, holding a knife up in the air, ready to kill. I leap out, just as I hear a shout from Rafael, who lunges towards us.

Arielle brings the knife down into Mariana and my heart sinks. At the very same moment, I tackle Arielle and shove the cloth in her mouth as she struggles against me in the dark. She elbows me in the stomach, knocking me over. I drag her to the ground with me and grab both of her arms, holding them behind her. She screams; the sound is muffled. She's stuck here now, but I can't move either, else she'll break free

I catch my breath, looking around. There's a bit of rustling—Serena and Justine must be beginning to wake up. Rafael's pulled the gag away from Mariana, who's whimpering and crying as he holds her head in his lap and grasps her hand. They're speaking in Spanish, but it sounds like he's crying too as he tries to comfort her. Arielle manages to shake the cloth out of her mouth, but she doesn't make a sound. She must know that there's no use in screaming. The game is over. I don't dare loosen my grip to re-gag her anyway.

Mariana falls silent—no whimpering, no breathing. Rafael gasps and checks for a pulse. He must not have found one because he stands up, Mariana's knife in hand, quivering with more anger than I've ever seen from his usually calm demeanor. He whips around towards us and stabs wildly at Arielle.

"You!" he roars. "How could you!"

Arielle screams, and it's all I can do to keep myself out of the way of his murderous rage. I let go of my grip on her, and Rafael slams into her like a train, crashing down to the ground on top of her as he slams the knife down blindly again and again, screaming insults at her over her continued screaming.

"Rafael!" I shout, "Enough!" I lay my hand on his shoulder, and he stops his frenzy, panting. "Give me the knife."

He doesn't move, but he doesn't resist when I pry the wet knife from his hand. Oh gosh, it's covered in blood. Justine and Serena are screaming behind me now. Rafael looks at me for one moment more, and then he bolts into the woods, which are just beginning to show some color as the faintest bit of daylight peeks through.

"Rafael!" I shout, but he doesn't look back. "Rafael!"

I sprint after him as well. Though he has a sizable lead on me, I recognize the path as the one I tracked him down yesterday. We whip through the forest, now past the point where I found Rafael and Mariana yesterday. I burst out of the woods onto a beach. Out on the water, Rafael sits on a raft of branches, lashed together with rope, rowing as fast as he can with his makeshift oars.

"Rafael!" I scream again, but he doesn't look back.

Serena and Justine suddenly appear beside me. "What in the blazes happened?" Justine says. She looks at the knife in my hand—which I can now see is covered in blood. "You killed Arielle!"

I drop the knife. "I didn't kill her!"

"Then why do you have a bloody knife?" she says.

"I took it from Rafael! Look, it's complicated."

"It'd better be a good explanation!"

Serena interrupts. "Can we stop screaming at each other for now!" she says, both of her hands up in the air. "We just lost three people! Three!" She presses her hands to her head and paces back and forth across the beach. "Can we stop trying to kill each other and just talk everything through?"

Dang. Serena grew a spine. We both fall silent. Serena and Justine begin to head back, but they stop and look back at me—unwilling to let me out of their sight. I steal another look at the ocean, where Rafael's figure slowly shrinks as he rows away.

I'm sorry, Rafael. I couldn't save her.

Please… survive.

* * *

**A/N: And that leaves... eleven left on the island. Serena, Justine, and Alan. Devorah, Ramses, and Hunter. Rea, Geoffrey, Kaleb, Kimberly, and Rabia. Do you have someone you're clearly rooting for now? Who is it? **


	11. Hope

**Rea**

We must have originally fled to the opposite side of the island because the walk to the mountain peak is much longer than I had initially anticipated.

"We're almost there!" Geoffrey calls from up ahead.

"Do you see anything?" Kaleb asks.

"Not yet," he says.

I'm thankful we set out early in the morning—it's a hot day today, and I wouldn't want to attempt this climb during the heat of the day.

"What do you think we'll find?" Rabia says. "Some kind of signpost?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I feel like someone would've already noticed it if there were a signpost."

"What were the exact words again," Rabia says.

I sigh. Not again. I don't want to think about it.

"I'm sorry! But I really need to know."

"It was 'Signal' and 'Mountain.' "

"Signal…" Rabia mutters.

Up ahead, Kaleb lets out a whoop. "We're here!"

When Rabia still trudges along slowly, completely preoccupied, I give her an encouraging pat on the back. "Let's go!"

We emerge out of the forest onto the bare-rock surface of the mountaintop, scanning the landscape for anything that would count as a "signal."

"I don't see anything," I say, "What about you?"

Kaleb scans the horizon. "There's some kind of land far out to the west. Could that be it?"

"I don't know," I say, "But that's not exactly a signal… How does that help us?"

"This can't be right," Kimberly says. "She wouldn't lie to us… right?"

"Maybe she wasn't thinking clearly," Rabia says, "Maybe there's nothing here and she was just saying nonsense."

I don't want to believe it. Nastasia paid too much for that to be a dead end! Still, I can't come up with anything that would disprove it… "It can't be! What if… What if we split up?"

"Well—"

Geoffrey begins to speak, but Kaleb unintentionally cuts him off. "Sounds good. Kimberly and I can go to the far side. Give us a shout if you find anything."

As the two of them walk off, the three of us split up the remaining area. I trudge over to my assigned section, but I'm not even sure where to start. A signal? What does that even mean? I scan this corner of the mountain, but there's only dirt, rocks, and more plants. Do we literally have to leave no rock unturned? Well, there's only one way to find out.

I check the major rocks here, but there's nothing. I look back towards the rocky clearing in the middle of the mountain. Perhaps the mountaintop is a clue? From here, it just looks like a large ring with a slight depression in the middle. Ring? That doesn't "ring" a bell. No, I'm not funny…

There's a scream.

"Kimberly!" I shout, as I break for the far side of the mountain, pulling my dagger out as I run. Rabia falls into the step beside me as we approach. In the corner of my eye, I see Geoffrey sprinting from the opposite side, where he had been searching for the 'signal.'

We find not two, but five people. Kaleb and Kimberly stand, back facing us, weapons pointed towards Devorah's gang further down the slope. Where did they come from? Kaleb looks like he's trying to stall by talking to them. C'mon, just hold it for a few moments more.

Ramses charges, the other two behind him. We're not there yet! It must be their amazing sibling synergy, because they manage to maintain a defensive position, Kaleb with his machete and Kimberly with a dagger. Kimberly whispers something to her brother, and they rush Ramses, Kaleb grabbing his attention while Kimberly's nimble figure dashes behind him and shoves him down the slope, kicking at him. They have to hold them off just a little while longer. We're almost there.

Devorah tackles Kimberly. Kaleb tries to separate the two, but they're rolling across the ground, Kimberly trying to prevent Devorah from getting a chance to strike. Now Kaleb is squared against Hunter and a recovered Ramses, who both rush him now that he's alone. This isn't good. Rabia screams. As he falls, he tries to ward them off, but there's only so much he can do. Geoffrey's there now— he shouts and punches Ramses in the jaw before the other guy can react. Ramses backs away, wincing.

I come up to Devorah, who's trying to pin Kimberly down. I shove Devorah off of Kimberly, who scrambles backwards to buy the time to get to her feet. Devorah glares at me, so full of fire that they could burn up this entire forest.

Kimberly's wearing out. I'll have to take on this rabid beast. But she has a machete and I only have a dagger. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Rabia, trembling as she holds the pepper spray out. I make eye contact with her for a brief moment and nod. As Devorah is still regaining her balance, I kick her as hard as I can and bolt backwards. Rabia sprays. I wasn't fast enough. Part of my exposed leg suddenly burns, and I yelp. Devorah screams too—she was hit harder. The scream gets the attention of the other two, and the three of them retreat into the forest.

Kimberly immediately rushes over to Kaleb, who's lying on the ground, bleeding badly from a wound in his abdomen. There's almost a small pool forming—I want to gag and look away, but I can't. I have to hold it for them. Kimberly bends over sobbing, gripping his hand. "No!"

"Please…" Kaleb whispers, wincing as he speaks, "I… don't want you crying… to be my last memory."

Kimberly keeps bawling, but she also starts laughing at the same time, laying her head on his chest as every breath rocks her entire body. "Stop! You idiot!" is all she can get out until the sobs choke out any other words.

Kaleb pats her slowly on the back until she begins to quiet down. Then he stops, and his hand falls lifelessly to the ground, sending Kimberly into a second round of crying.

I stoop down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. She immediately turns to me and buries her face in my chest. My tears are flowing now too. I want to comfort her, but in a time like this, there's nothing that seems right.

"I'm sorry," I say. It's the only thing that comes to mind. "I'm sorry."

When she eventually quiets down, she looks at me square in the eye, and beneath the warm brown, I see blazing red. "It's… not your fault… It's ****** ******* Ramses! And Hunter! And Devorah!"

She's technically right. But deep inside, my conscience won't let me go. It was my suggestion that we split up. If we had all been together, it would've been five against three from the start. From the beginning of this nightmare, I've done my best to protect others, but it seems like all I do is hurt.

First Marcus. Then Nastasia. Now Kaleb.

**Serena**

I sit on a log in the new place we've moved to, after the catastrophe that was last night. The three of us have stayed together, surprisingly. The official reason was that Devorah's group had three people and that we couldn't afford to have fewer than three, but I suspect that we're all just scared to be alone.

Yesterday, we had six people. Today, we have three. This must be the worst math I've ever seen. How did everything go down so quickly? You'd think that we had multiple murderers in our group. My mind still swirls at the idea that Arielle killed Mariana. How is that even possible? Arielle was the sweetest person I'd ever met! Now I'm supposed to believe that she was a murderer? I don't want to, but I saw what happened. Mariana was stabbed, and Rafael and Alan were fighting Arielle. Rafael wouldn't kill Mariana, which means that Arielle did.

Justine sits down beside me. One look at her face and I know she means business—I haven't ever seen her with such a serious expression.

"What's wrong?" I say.

"Alan's taking a nap," she says, pointing to his sleeping figure. "I say we kill him right now."

"What…?" Am I missing something? "Oh… Haha. Funny joke."

"No," she says, maintaining the intensity. "I'm serious. We should get rid of him right now."

What in the world? "Kill him? Are you crazy?"

"Why not? He killed Arielle!"

"He says that Rafael killed Arielle!"

"And you believe him?" she says, scoffing, "Besides, the two were working together, so it's still his fault!"

"But— But killing? How could you ever even think of actually doing that?"

"Isn't this how this entire thing works? If we don't kill, we'll be killed! There's no way around it."

There's a rustle. We must've woken Alan up because he's on his feet now. "Woah, woah, woah. This entire mess wasn't my—"

I interrupt. "Shut up! Stay out of this!"

Justine frowns and gets up. "You've ruined our chance," she says, stomping away.

I ran after her. "Hey! Justine! Can we talk about this?"

She whirls around. "Look. They made it really clear that no one was leaving this ****** place until only one person was left. I'm not going to be left dead here."

It begins to dawn on me what she means. "So… you would kill me?" I say.

She sighs. "I like you, Serena. But yes. I would kill you to get home. I don't want to do it if I don't have to, but we're the last two, you're going to go."

I'm left dumbstruck as she walks away. It feels like she just stabbed me in the heart. How could she do this to me? I thought we were friends! Where did all of this come from?

Then I remember all her jokes about death and killing. How she didn't ever seem disturbed when anyone died, not even Damiano or Arielle. The way she seemed so friendly with Alan when they were together in the big group but hated his guts when he was away. She's been hiding this murderous plot this whole time.

Wait. Justine. Arielle.

I look up. "Um… Justine?"

"What?" she snaps.

"Were you and Arielle working together?"

She averts her eyes, staring at the ground, the resistance immediately deflating. "Yes," she confesses, "I killed Bartolomeu. She killed Mariana. I'm not proud of it, but it happened."

My heart is stabbed a second time. The two of them had been hiding this from me the entire time. They probably would've killed me in my sleep too!

There's a rustle from the forest. It's not Alan or Justine. I freeze. For a moment, the only sound is the singing of birds. Then out from the thick underbrush, a girl appears. I think she was one of the ones that insisted that everyone stayed together back before… the killing happened.

"Umm," she says, her hands up. "I was wondering if we could negotiate a treaty."

I tilt my head to the side. Negotiate a treaty? It suddenly dawns on me that I'm saved. This girl was one of those insisting on peace from the beginning. If I join with her, I'll be much safer than if I stayed with Justine the murderer and Alan the snake. "Oh my gosh!" I say, much higher than I thought I sounded. "You're still alive! Are you okay? Are you by yourself? What's your name again?"

"Umm…" she says, sounding confused. Why would she be confused? "I'm Rea. I have three other teammates—Rabia, Kimberly, and Geoffrey."

Now that she mentions the names, I vaguely remember Rea and Rabia, the latter of whom constantly stayed by Rea's side. Kimberly… she had a brother right? I almost ask, but I gulp. Maybe I don't want to know. But Geoffrey? The name seems familiar, but I can't remember a face.

In the time it's taken me to process all that, Alan's come up beside me. "Yes. We'd love to work together somehow. We need more fighting power if we run into the murder crew."

Rea winces when he mentions Devorah's group, but she smiles, and compared to all the apparently fake smiles I've seen for the past few days, this one actually looks genuine. "Great." She turns around. "You all can come out now."

Out of the forest come the three she mentioned. I remembered Rabia and Kimberly correctly, and— Oh… that's Geoffrey. Wasn't he from that place with a really hard name? Gosh, Serena, your memory is horrible!

"How many supplies do you all have?" she asks.

Alan's faster to answer than I am. "We have enough water and some food, though the food is running low. We have daggers but nothing big."

"And a taser," I add.

Rea's jaw drops. "You have a taser?"

Alan glares at me, but I don't care. I already trust this new girl more than I ever trusted him. "Yes. That's how we fought off Devorah when we ran into them."

Rea nods, a sad look on her face. "We're not lacking either. We have a few machetes, pepper spray, knives, and a flashlight. We have enough food too, though it takes us a long time to get more water."

"That's a pretty good haul," Alan says. "Do you want to settle in with us?"

Rea looks at the other three. Geoffrey nods, but Kimberly looks too shell-shocked to answer and Rabia's got an arm around her shoulder.

"I guess we will," Rea says.

As they find places to put their stuff in our rough camp, I sit down beside Rea. "Hey."

She looks up from her bag. "Oh, hey. You're Serena, right?"

"How'd you remember? I'm terrible with names."

She shrugs. "I don't know. I've always been good with names." She looks around. "Is it just… you three?"

I nod grimly.

"Has everything… been okay?"

I shake my head. "No… We've… lost four people already."

"Four!" she says, eyes wide.

Crap, I've scared her. What if they all leave and I'm stuck with Justine and Alan? "We, um," I say, trying to reassure her, "had someone within the group that tried to kill the rest of us." That's Arielle, but it comes to mind that Justine is also a killer. We need to get away from her as soon as we can.

Rea looks at me with warm eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's… fine."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I shouldn't… but…" It only takes a few moments before I find myself telling her everything. How we found Alan, who saved us from the murder crew. How Arielle betrayed me. How Rafael rowed off into the ocean, where he probably died.

"Wow," she says, taking everything in, "That's… traumatic."

For a moment, the weight of everything that's happened hits me. I try to shake it off. "I don't want to think about it anymore. What about y'all?"

"Well," she says, "We're a bit… traumatized too. We've spent most of our time wandering around the island. Originally, Nastasia and Kaleb were with us, but… they're both gone now." She looks like she's about to cry.

Now I feel like I'm heartless. I've been pretending like nothing's happened, but she's taken the full brunt of what all this death means. "I'm sorry," I say, " I didn't mean to…"

She gulps. "I need to talk about it," she says. "Nastasia… was killed by the terrorists."

The words nearly give me a panic attack. "The terrorists! They're on the island?"

"No— they shot her from above. She was telling me too much, so they silenced her."

Too much? "What was she telling you?"

She looks up at the sky. "I don't want to say too much… but she did say something about a signal on the mountain."

For a moment, I think I'm dreaming. "Oh my gosh— Signal?"

"Yes, we went to check, but we didn't find anything. It doesn't make any sense—" She pauses when she sees my face. "What? Do you know what it means?"

"Are you sure it was 'signal'?"

"Yes, I'm—"

"Like a phone signal?"

The pieces seem to be coming together in her head. "Wait… so… there's cellular reception on the mountain? But—"

"I have a phone!"

"You do?"

"Yeah!" I fumble around in my pockets, in my boots, in—

Wait. I gave it to Rafael. Alan would be the only person with a chance of knowing.

"Hey Alan!" I shout, jumping up.

"What?" he replies grouchily from where he's curled up in a ball on the ground, "I'm trying to sleep here."  
"Do you know where Rafael put my phone?"

"Why does it matter…"

"There's cell phone reception on the island!"

"What!" Alan immediately gets to his feet, as does everyone else. "Are you sure?"

"Well… I don't know for sure, but we have to check on top of the mountain!" I say. "Where'd Rafael put my phone?"

Alan scratches his head. "I think I know where he'd keep it."

"Then let's go!" says Rea.

Alan leads the way, and Rea and her allies follow. I pause to examine the camp, and my heart sinks when I see the newly-empty space where Justine kept her bag and other supplies.

There's nothing there, not even a trace.

Justine is gone.

* * *

**A/N: The end is beginning! There aren't many chapters left!**

**On a different note, I don't know how many people will even see this here, but I'm writing an SYOT now. I completed two SYOTs years ago, but then I left in the middle of my third. I now realize that I had a huge idea that had no idea how to control, and so I'm going back to writing a small, self-contained SYOT. I'd love it if you submitted; I don't have any submissions yet.**


	12. Final Eruption

**Alan**

We dash through the forest, everyone right behind me as I lead them down the trail that Rafael used to take all the time. I pause when we reach the bush where I found Rafael and Mariana, and it hits me that both of them are dead. Well, Rafael technically isn't dead, but what are the odds of him reaching the next island? Did he have any food and water with him?

Focus. Don't think about Rafael right now.

"Why are we stopping?" Serena nags, "Where's my phone?"

"Give me a second." I look around until I see the tracks we left as we chased him to the beach earlier… was it today? It hasn't even been a whole day? "This way."

We arrive on the beach, where the midday sun is beating down hotter than we've ever seen so far. I look out to the waves, and my mind goes back to Rafael. Where is he now?

I shake myself back to reality. Rafael must've had some kind of workshop here. In addition to the tracks we left this morning, there's a single pair of footsteps that leads into dense brush. When I push through the foliage, I find a small platform of branches, interlaced together to form a table of sorts, held up by the trunks of two fallen trees. Through an opening in the canopy, sunlight shines down directly on it, almost as if it were in a natural spotlight. Several banana leaves form a cover over it.

Geoffrey lifts the leaf. There's a dense pile of wires, rope, batteries, and tools—this must've been his workshop! There's even a small knife lying amid the mess, and— is that a bit of pink?

"My phone!" Serena says. "He charged it!"

"Careful," Geoffrey says, "Looks like there's some electricity here."

I shrug and reach in, "It should be ok— Ouch!" There's a small shock, and I jerk my hand back.

"What'd I say?" he says.

I glare at him and carefully pull the wires, which loop around the phone in a position held by rocks and sticks until they return to the battery. It looks like Rafael figured out a way to trigger the phone's wireless charging! What a genius!

The moment the phone is free from its recharging prison of wires, Serena pounces, grabbing it and clicking the power button. It doesn't respond— it must have been powered off.

"Hey!" I say, "Don't turn it on yet. We don't know how much battery's in there."

"C'mon…" she pouts, "I haven't used it in… almost an entire week!"

Rea takes my side, thankfully. "But if there's only a bit left in there, we'll run out before we reach the mountaintop."

Serena doesn't argue and slides it in her pocket. "Fine. But the moment we approach the mountaintop, I'm switching it on." She suddenly looks at me. "You knew about this place?"

"Not really," I admit. "I just saw Rafael coming back from this area with tools and materials he didn't bring out from camp, so he had to have some kind of workshop here."

Rabia calls our attention to markings in the tree trunk. "What do you think this is?"

I take a look. It's three lines of carved words, crudely etched into the tree trunk with a knife. I only recognize the first word. "The first word is Mariana's name, but I can't understand the rest…" I say, "It looks like Spanish?"

"Ooh!" Serena gushes, rushing over, "Let me try!"

"You know Spanish?" Rea says.

"I take it in school," she says, "Okay, let's see… There's 'Mariana'… and "amor" means love… oh gosh, real life Spanish is much harder than the stuff we read in school…"

"Can you actually read it?" I say.

"Umm…" she says, "I can't read every single word… but I think this is a love poem! Oh my gosh—They were in love?"

Oh dear… off she goes. But it does prove me right—Rafael was in love with Mariana.

"Wait," she says, catching herself, "If they were in love… then this is tragic…"

She gets quiet again (to my relief).

"So," Rea says, "What's our plan after we go up the mountain?"

"Well," Geoffrey says, "We turn on the phone and—"

"I'll call my dad!" Serena says. "Oh my gosh, I haven't seen any of them in so long…"

"That's no good," I say, "What if he doesn't pick up? If the phone dies and he doesn't answer, we'll actually be screwed."

"What about the biggest group chat you're in?" Rea suggests.

"What do I say?" Serena says, "Do I just pop in and say, 'sike, I'm not dead'?"

"Wait," Kimberly says. It's the first thing I've heard her say. Her brother isn't here, so… that probably explains her puffy eyes and lack of words. "Aren't you famous on 4UM?"

Serena beams. No one else has noticed _that _so far. "Of course! I've got so many followers! I used to have… how many? I don't remember…."

She rambles on and Rea looks at me. I shrug. Serena's just… Serena.

Kimberly reluctantly interrupts. "So if you posted your coordinates to your bulletin board, the world would know in minutes."

The words mean nothing to me because I've never used 4UM, but apparently, everyone else understands.

"You're right!" Serena says. "How long would it take help to arrive?"

"Nastasia said that we were near… Vanuatu?" Rea says.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Geoffrey says, "I'm from Vanuatu! I don't know if anyone there would see your message, though."

Kimberly's face lights up slightly as well at the mention of Vanuatu. "Australia's nearby! You've got some followers there! It would only take a few hours for a plane to get here."

"So," I say, trying to make sure everyone's on the same page, "We climb the mountain. Serena turns on the phone and… post coordinates to 4UM? What does that mean? I don't use 4UM."

Serena gasps. "How are you even alive?"

Kimberly explains. "There's a simple click that lets you post your GPS coordinates with a short message to your bulletin board. All your followers will see it."

"Do people actually use that feature?" I say.

"Of course!" Serena says.

"Isn't it… risky to constantly broadcast your location to the world?" I say. I've had to track down people for my father before, and an app like this would make it so easy for anyone to catch you. Come to think of it… maybe that's how everyone else here got kidnapped. I'm still wondering how they got me in the first place, though.

She rolls her eyes. "How else would you show off your foodie adventures to the world? Duh."

I sigh. As stupid as it is, it's what gets us off the island, so I can't complain. "And we just wait?"

"I guess," Rea says. "How long would it take again?"

"Anywhere from less than an hour to three hours," Geoffrey says, "Depending on where they come from."

"Then we'd better get going," I say.

About an hour later, we're nearing the summit of the mountain.

"Can I turn on my phone yet?" Serena asks for the millionth time.

"When we get there," I say.

"Are we there yet?" she asks.

I groan. Must she behave like a child? "Does it look like it?"

"Geez," she says, "I was just asking."

Just asking. How many times does she need to "just ask"?

"No need to argue," Rea says, ever the pacifist. "I think we're almost there, though."

"Umm…" Rabia says, "When we get there, we need to stick together. And have your weapons ready."

Serena and I look at each other, and then to Rea. Is there something going on that we don't know? Rea bites her lip. "It's not a happy story," she says, going over to support Kimberly, who's putting on a brave face even though there's pain in her eyes. I look away.

"On the bright side," Rea says. "I think it should be safe to turn on the phone now. It's just going to be a few more minutes."

"Finally!" Serena says. She looks like she just won the lottery as she pulls her phone out and gives the power button a hard press. The screen lights as the phone boots up, and Serena squeals. I'm still amazed that Rafael figured this out… Gosh, why can't I get him out of my head?

"How much battery do we have?" Geoffrey asks.

"Umm… I have… 8%!"

"Good thing we didn't turn it on earlier," I say, winking at her. She glares back.

Kimberly falls in beside her. "I like your lock screen! 'May the odds be ever in your favor!' "

Serena giggles. Ugh. "Thanks! I think it was from some really old dystopian book. I'm not sure which one, though."

Apparently, Kimberly reads a lot too, and before long, Serena's taken another person off the rails. It's still better than bothering me, at any rate. From the bits and pieces of the conversation, it seems like Serena is giving Kimberly a phone tour. Gah…

Suddenly, there's a rumble, and the ground begins to shake. Earthquake! For a moment, my head spins and I nearly fall. Geoffrey trips. Serena screams and drops the phone. I grab the tree beside me and the shaking stops.

"My phone!" Serena cries. No, no, no!

Rea rushes over. "Is it okay?"

Serena pushes the button, and the stupid pink brick doesn't respond. My world collapses. There's no way off this island, all because of that earthquake!

Serena yelps again. "It's working now!'

I let out a big breath. "That was close… Please don't drop it again…"

She nods. "Where did that earthquake come from?"

"Earthquakes are common in this part of the world," Geoffrey says, "But it could also be a sign of a volcanic eruption."

Serena's eyes widen. "Is this mountain going to explode?"

He shrugs. "It's rare, but it's a possibility."

"Then we'd better hurry," I say.

As we step once again onto the bare rock top of the mountain, Rea looks back at Serena. "Is there a signal?"

"Umm… not yet," Serena says.

I cross my arms. "If we're not getting a signal now…"

Serena suddenly jumps and screams. "I've got one bar! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!"

"Really? Let me see!" I say, leaning over to see. Lo and behold—she's getting a signal! But there's only 5% battery left.

"Quick!" Rea says, "Send the post!"

"I'm trying," Serena says, trying to open the 4UM app, but the phone's still slow after being dead for so long, and—

Notifications. Hundreds and hundreds of notifications flood in, causing the phone to respond slower than a snail.

"Turn on Do not Disturb!" I say.

"But I want to see who's texting me!" she says.

You've got to be kidding me. "You can do that _after_ you're off this cursed place!"

"Okay! Okay!"

Serena opens the app, but it gets stuck on a loading sign. "The signal is really weak."

While I'm staring at it, the battery percentage drops to 2%. "It better hurry up!"

Serena, waiting, caresses the cracked screen with her finger. "Aww man… this screen was new…" she mumbles.

The screen loads, and Serena's fingers are flying again. "Okay… New Post… Send coordinates… What should I put in the post?"

I want to scream. "It doesn't matter! You're at 1%!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll say… 'Help! Save us!' in all caps. Is that okay?"

"Just post it!"

She hits the post button—and we get stuck on another loading symbol. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!

Then the phone dies. The good-for-nothing, pretentiously pink brick dies!

"Did it send?" I say.

"I don't know!" Serena says.

"How do you not know?" Rea asks, her calm demeanor cracking for a split second.

"It was so close! I don't know if the post sent before it died!"

"We're done for," Rabia says, burying her head in her hands.

"I guess we'll find out in a few hours," Rea sighs.

**Rea**

It was so close! If only we had turned the phone on two minutes later! Or if Serena hadn't been distracted by the incoming notifications…

There's no point in trying to blame someone. All I can do is hope that the signal came through.

Geoffrey, who's been quietly watching our surroundings this entire time, glances at me and whispers. "Rea… I think Devorah's group is here."

"Where?" I say, scanning the trees. I reach for my dagger.

"Over—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish before Hunter breaks out from the trees to our right. Ramses is coming in from the left. Serena and Rabia cower. My eyes meet Alan, Kimberly, and Geoffrey's, and in that moment, somehow, we all know what to do. Geoffrey, his machete having been at the ready, meets Ramses' blade with his own. Alan lunges for the taser he had put down, but Hunter's too close. He goes instead for a well-timed kick.

Rapid footsteps behind me. I whirl around to find Devorah, rapidly approaching. I call out to alert Kimberly, and then I'm dodging Devorah's swing of death from her red-stained machete. There's no way I could take her down with just a knife. Kimberly tries to circle around to surround her on both sides, but she notices our movement and keeps us from gaining the advantage.

I glance at where Serena and Rabia were. Serena has her own knife out, but she's screaming at Hunter to stop, all while Alan and Hunter go at each other. Rabia has scuttled away from the fighting, digging around by the edge of the forest in her bag for the pepper spray.

Kimberly manages to scramble to the opposite side of Devorah. Though we have the upper hand now, Devorah's eyes are beginning to look more and more like a crazed beast's. She lunges at Kimberly, swinging her machete wildly. Kimberly wasn't ready. She dodges, but not fast enough. The knife slices her leg. She screams, falling to the ground. There's so much blood! I hear Rabia scream.

Yelling, I drop my knife and tackle Devorah before she has a chance to end Kimberly. She drops her weapon in surprise, and we tumble to the ground. As I writhe and kick and punch and shout, I try to spot Rabia. Is she coming? I first see Kimberly, who's lying on the ground, twitching, a stream of blood flowing from her leg. I find Rabia's bag, but Rabia is nowhere to be seen. No! She must've thought that Kimberly was dead and ran off!

Now it's just me against Devorah. I try to hit her nose, but I miss, and she grabs my arm. I try to break her grip, but she's stronger. She settles down over me, holding all my limbs down.

"Well," she says, panting. With her one free hand, she reaches over and grabs the knife I dropped earlier. "Sorry."

Then the ground shakes again and a deep ominous rumbling fills the air. The ground splits open a few feet away from my head, shooting steam up and up and up. Devorah leaps up off of me as Rabia bursts out of the forest.

"It's the volcano!" Rabia screams, "It's going to erupt!"

I scramble to my feet. "What?"

Everyone freezes. Cracks spewing steam have appeared all over the mountain top. Geoffrey points to the farside of the island. "If we rush over right now, we might survive!"

"Is that far enough?" Devorah shouts over the rumbling.

"Depends on the volcano!" Geoffrey shouts back. "If it's a small eruption, we'll live!"

"What if it's a big eruption?" Serena says.

"Then we're doomed, no matter what!"

"What about Kimberly?" I yell.

"She can't move fast enough!" Serena says.

"We can try to carry her!" Geoffrey says.

"Wait!" Alan shouts, pointing at the sky. "There's a helicopter! Help is here!"

We all look. In all the noise of the volcano, we hadn't noticed the approaching vehicle. My heart skips a beat. The 4UM post sent.

As the helicopter begins to descend, everyone rushes over. I bend over Kimberly's figure. "Hold on! Help is here!"

Her dulling eyes light up. "Really?"

"Yes!" I say, "Can you walk?"

She shakes her head. This isn't good; I can't carry her myself. But I can't leave her alone to die!

Devorah appears beside me. "You get the legs; I'll get the other side."

I don't have time to question her, but one look at her eyes and I know that something inside her has switched. We pick Kimberly up, and we almost immediately fall as the ground jolts beneath us. Somehow, we manage to hoist her over to where the helicopter is hovering above the ground. From this point below it, its noise is even enough to drown out the rumbles of the imminent volcanic eruption.

Someone appears in the helicopter and throws down a rope ladder. Alan immediately grabs it first and begins scrambling up as fast as he can. Ramses and Hunter are right behind him. When Alan reaches the top, Serena begins to climb, but she's slow and she struggles to grab the rungs of the swaying ladder. Geoffrey holds the bottom rung to keep it steady, and Serena clambers up the rest without a hitch. He climbs up after her.

It's just me, Devorah, Rabia, and the wounded Kimberly left. One of the people in the helicopter sends down a stretcher, where we lay Kimberly. We tighten the buckles to secure her, and when I give them a thumbs up, Geoffrey and Hunter lift Kimberly up.

Only three of us remain on the island. "Go!" I yell at Rabia.

She grabs the ladder and begins to climb. I grab a rung, but then I pause. I see Marcus' face again, and then I see Adalia. And Johan. And Nastasia, and then Kaleb. I squeeze my eyes shut, and a new wave of guilt rushes over me.

I don't deserve to get off this island. I'm a murderer.

Rabia stops, a few rungs away from the top. "What are you doing?" she yells.

"You go!" I shout, "I'm staying here!"

She nearly falls off from shock. "What?"

"I don't deserve to live," I say, tears beginning to cloud my vision, "Get up there and get out of here!"

She refuses to budge. "No! If you're not going, then I'm not going!"

The mountain is getting louder now. "Go!" I shout again, "The volcano is going to blow!"

Rabia looks at me, crying as well, and then she turns around and climbs up into the helicopter. That's it. Out of the twenty or so that entered the island, only seven are leaving.

Devorah gives me a push. "You have to go up that ladder."

I glare at her. "No. You go."

"I don't deserve to live!" she screams at me, "Just hurry up and let me die alone like I deserve!"

"I can't live with myself either!"

Devorah grabs the ladder and forces it into my hand. "Stop! You're a good person, Rea. You can't die here. Go before I have your blood on my hands too!"

Above me, Serena and Rabia are looking down at me, screaming for me to hurry.

"Look!" Devorah says, "Go! For them! They need you!"

I sigh, and I push aside the accusing faces in my head. "Fine."

I start up the ladder. Sounds of cracking rock join the volcanic rumble and the temperature rises. I cling on for dear life as the helicopter shoots upward. The volcano is literally about to erupt now. Below me, Devorah's figure shrinks as more of the island comes into view.

Then the explosion happens. A wall of air hits us, rocking the helicopter, flinging the ladder in every direction. My legs dangle in the air as my stomach lurches. My sweaty palms are slipping. I vaguely hear a scream from above.

Then air is the only thing in my hands and I'm falling… falling… falling.

Falling.


	13. Aftermath

**Serena**

When the helicopter lurches, Rabia and I nearly fall out of the open door. As I catch my breath, Rabia screams. It's Rea! I look down again, just in time to see her hands release and her body disappear below into the smoke from the volcano, leaving only the empty ladder, flailing in the hot, sulfuric air. One of the men from the helicopter closes the door, and I lunge at him. You can't close that door! You can't!

He easily holds me off, and I crumble to the floor. Rabia and I grab each other, both of us crying. If any of us deserved to leave, it was Rea.

"She fell!" Rabia chokes out, her voice still hoarse from yelling for Rea to hurry up.

I can't speak. I can't think. My heart is stuck in my throat. Every muscle in my body has given up, leaving me collapsed, my arms around Rabia, crying until my eyes run dry. I feel my strength return as my tears subside. I peel myself off the floor and stumble into an empty seat, where I bend over, burying my head in my hands. If only the world would disappear right now!

I force myself to look out of the window. We've just passed over the opposite side of the island, where Geoffry had told us to run. No one's there now, of course—

There's movement down there—someone's running along the beach!

I squint. It's Justine. I open my dry mouth to tell them to go back, but no sound comes out. The memories flash before my eyes. How we talked and laughed together. How she was my closest friend here when Arielle was too busy fighting with Alan. How she killed Bartolomeu and betrayed me. That last one tears my heart again, and I shut my mouth.

Goodbye, Justine.

The island shrinks until the place that once seemed huge is only a small part of the window view. Flashes of red spew from the mountain top, and the once-pristine Pacific island is covered with smoke.

"I… don't know anymore."

It's Hunter, sitting in the seat beside me, wringing his hands and staring a hole into the floor.

"I thought I knew what I was doing," he mutters, half to himself, half to whoever might be around to listen, "But now? I— I don't know."

"Hmm."

"What was I thinking? Was it worth it?"

I look out the window again, and the island is now distant, completely obscured by the natural chaos surrounding it. Justine is still on that island. And she's likely going to die. I was the only one that could've saved her. Now I wish I spoke out.

"Well…" I say, "No one is innocent."

He looks up, surprised that someone else even bothered to respond. "We're going home, right?"

"I hope so." I remember Dad. And Mom. At home, I constantly get annoyed at them for nosing around in my business, but now, I almost want them to find me and demand that I tell them everything.

"But then what? How will we ever live with ourselves?"

"I don't know. I guess we just will… Somehow."

**Alan**

Everyone else has now settled into a seat—even Rabia and Serena. But I can't sit still. I need to move, get myself out of my own thoughts. I pace back and forth in this tiny three feet space, staring out the window, looking for anything—anything!—that will get my mind off of… everything.

I wander to the front of the helicopter, where our saviors, two men in their twenties and one woman in her mid-thirties, sit, engrossed in some kind of conversation.

"…Still," the woman says, "None of this makes any sense."

"Beats me," one of the men says, "I—" He stops when he notices me. For a moment, we just stare at each other, "Well! How are you holding up? Do you want anything?"

I wince. I don't like being treated like a victim, someone that has to be coddled and protected for fear of me falling apart. "About as well as I can—and I'm fine, thank you. Where are we going?"

"We're headed to New Caledonia right now—that's where we flew in from. It's about forty minutes away. There they'll want to put you through some health inspection, and then your home country will send someone to take you home."

Home. I know the word, but I don't have a place tied to it. There's my dad's house. And his other house. And his other house. And the dormitories and apartments I've stayed in for school or while completing assignments for my dad. But… home? I smile anyway. "That's good."

There's an awkward lull as neither he nor I have anything to say to each other. From his eyes, I can tell he's curious, though. Hmph. Must be too scared of breaking me.

"Umm," I say, "How did the rescue mission get put together? The response time was really fast."

"That's thanks to luck," the woman says, "We just happened to be in New Caledonia when that girl posted y'all's location. If we had to fly from Fiji or Australia…we would have been too late."

So people actually pay attention to that stupid location feature. "Just out of curiosity… Do you use 4UM?"

She laughs. "No— I don't keep up with the stuff you young people use. But the world's been going crazy over all y'all. The Internet blew up when all of you disappeared, and then it blew up again when a mysterious set of coordinates attached to a cry for help was posted to a missing person's account."

I laugh politely. "I don't use it either, but I guess I'm glad it exists."

I leave the front of the helicopter. That's enough forced conversation for me. I find myself back in my little three-feet strip by the window again, trying to rid myself of restlessness and this… unfamiliar feeling.

I've been told since I was young that I had to do whatever it took to get ahead; that's how it works in the world of business and politics. And so I did. I cheated when I needed to. I stabbed and backstabbed to help my family climb the racks of prestige.

But I'm a killer now. Before, I always had someone else to blame the collateral damage on. Sometimes, the police were untrained. Other times, the opponent was seditious—they had it coming to them.

I'm staring out the window again, now only able to watch the open expanse of the ocean. I can't blame Rafael and Mariana's deaths on anyone but myself. From the looks of it, they were planning to run off together once Bartolomeu died. I didn't even once consider their safety, completely blinded by the need to destroy Arielle. Perhaps they'd both be alive if I were just a better person.

Suddenly, there's a gleam of light from a small point down below. Light reflecting off the water? No, this is too bright. Someone has a mirror down there! It's not a boat; it's hard to see what it is with the light shining in my eyes. It looks like a person, though…

"Hey!" I yell, "There's someone down there!"

"What?" the woman says, turning to the pilot and telling him to hold the helicopter still. She leans over to the window. "Where?"

"Down there! There's someone with a mirror!"

"My goodness…" she mutters. "There really is someone out here!"

The helicopter descends. I keep looking down. The flash disappears as the person lowers the mirror. It's clearly male, with curly hair, on a raft—

It's Rafael.

I rush over to the door as the helicopter hovers over the raft, and as soon as the man gets it open, I throw down the ladder. Down below, Rafael slings on his backpack and carefully grabs the rungs, his entire body shaking.

"Rafael!" I yell, "Come on!"

He looks up, shocked, and then he unsteadily scrambles up the rungs. The moment he enters the aircraft, I grab him and throw my arms around him.

"I'm sorry," I say as a wave of relief washes over me, "I'm so, so sorry."

"Need… water…" he croaks, feebly trying to escape my prison of a hug. I release as the woman brings over a bottle of water.

He reaches for it, but the woman insists on pouring the water into his mouth bit by bit, forcing him to drink it slowly. Eventually, he finishes the entire bottle and collapses into me, clinging on to my arms as his exhausted body demands rest. I half-lead, half-carry him to a seat.

"You can rest now," I say.

He looks back into my eyes for only a split second before they shut and he dozes off, but that second was all that I needed to see the pain and grief inside.

We're all scarred and guilty, but maybe we'll make it though together.

* * *

**A/N: Stay tuned for the epilogue. Submit to my SYOT. :D**


	14. Epilogue

**Serena**

_Six Months Later_

"But that would have to wait for another day."

I type up the last of my words for today and wait for the document to autosave. I've written another… three thousand words today, which puts my current work in progress at about three-quarters of the way through. I take a sip of my latte and close my eyes as the late afternoon sun shines through my window and onto my face. Such a lovely feeling! I've been productive this morning!

I take my phone off Do Not Disturb to see what I missed during my word sprint, and my heart leaps when there's a new message from Rabia in the "Stronger Together" group chat—name courtesy of Alan, surprisingly. I check what Rabia sent.

_I just spent an entire day without any flashbacks!_

I grin. She's been struggling with flashbacks and nightmares, more so than the rest of us. _Good for you!,_ I send.

A call comes in—she's started a video call! I tap on the button to join, and I'm greeted by her radiant face.

"Serena!" she says.

"Hey!" I say, "You look great!"

She smiles, averting her eyes. "Yesterday was my last day of rehab, I didn't have any dreams last night, and I've had a great day today! Everything's just wonderful!"

"Awesome!" I say. She genuinely looks so much happier, healthier—just better.

"How's your book?" she asks.

"It's coming along well," I say, glancing at the open draft on my laptop. Everyone else said I was crazy when I told them I wanted to write something inspired by my experiences—it would be too "traumatic" or something like that. This will show them; I'm stronger now. "It's hard sometimes because it forces me to relive what happened on the island… but it helps me let go and move on."

"That sounds scary," she says, "I don't think I'm strong enough to do that."

"Seriously?" I say, "You're strong too! You just made it out of rehab!"

"Sometimes I want to give up," she says, "And then I think of Rea… and I keep going for her."

There's a ding, and Rafael joins the call. He's wearing a work apron, and behind him, a huge array of different tools hang on the wall. "Hey guys," he says, adjusting his phone.

"Is that your workshop?" I say, squinting to see it better.

"Yeah. Have I not shown it before?"

"You haven't!" I say, "Give us a tour! I want to see it!"

"Uhh…" he says, looking around, "Maybe another day. It's way too messy right now."

I give him an exaggerated pout, but he just laughs.

"What are you making?" Rabia asks.

"I'm building my own computer," he says, "And a wooden stand for it."

"Wow," I say, "I could never do that."

He laughs sheepishly, and there's another ding. It's Alan, and looks like he's holding his phone as he's walking, giving us a view of the sky.

"Where are you?" Rabia says.

"Hey!" he says, tilting the phone down so we can see him. He's wearing a business suit, walking down a quiet sidewalk.

"Dang!" I say, "Isn't it like… 6 AM there? What's the occasion?"

"Nothing special," he says, "Just a meeting. My dad's making me go back to doing work since he says I've spent enough time resting."

"You're always so busy," Rafael says.

He shrugs. "It is what it is. Did I miss anyone?"

"No," Rabia says, "Just us three so far."

"Do you think anyone else will join the call?" Alan says.

"Hunter's off on another camping trip," I say, rolling my eyes, "He doesn't bring his phone. Says it's a more 'natural' experience."

"I think Kimberly's still asleep," Rabia says, "She really likes to sleep in."

"How's she doing?" I ask. Her leg was mostly back to normal after a few months, but I haven't heard from her in a little while.

"She's always busy too," Rabia says, "She showed me her schedule once—she has so many different activities every day."

"That's just her, I guess," I say, "Anyone heard from Ramses or Geoffrey?"

"Oh!" Alan says, sliding into the passenger seat of a fancy-looking car, "Geoffrey's doing botanical research somewhere, I think. No idea about Ramses, though."

"I think he muted the chat, too," Rabia says, "He's never said anything here."

There's a loud beep— It's from Alan, where another car just honked at them. "Sorry!" he says, "I need to go. We should all meet up in person sometime."

"Yes! Maybe over winter break!" From within the house (the White House!), I hear my mom calling me for dinner as well. "I'm going to go eat dinner. Bye!"

"Bye!"

I hang up, and I find myself staring out the window, seeing Justine's tiny figure again on the beach that was far below us. If only I had said _something_.

Mom's calling again. I blink a few times to clear the image, and then I'm flying through the hallways for dinner.

Life goes on. I'll be okay.

* * *

**A/N: I guess this marks the first story I've completed since Summer of 2016! Has it really been four years? Now that this story is done, most of my attention will be going to the SYOT I'm writing, but who knows? I might start something else along the way.**

**Thank you to everyone that stayed for this! This story means a lot to me; I have many happy memories of planning this with two friends those years ago. I've actually thought about this story multiple times since—I always knew I would have to write it sometime.**

**If you've been following along, would you mind dropping a review and letting me know what you thought? **

**Till**** the next one,  
Joseph**


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